Father And Son
by Anotherjaneway
Summary: Dr. Brackett gets a headache when his father moves into town. The crew of Station 51 get a surprise on their doorstep and face a creepshow batch of rescues.


This is a text version of the original still airing imaged, music soundtracked story.

Emergency Theater Live, Episode Two 2. Father And Son, Season One, Episode 2

Short summary- Dr. Brackett gets a headache when his father moves into town. The crew of Station 51 get a surprise on their doorstep and face a creepshow batch of rescues.  
****WARNING**** The long summary to come is very story spoiling and will take away plot surprises if you read it now before reading the longer story below it.

Decide now if you want to read this episode's detailed summary before doing so.

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Long Summary-  
Father And Son-

Kel Brackett makes a phone call to his estranged father to reestablish ties with him after many years of silence.  
Cap finds a puppy basket on the doorstep of the station.  
The gang answers an unknown type rescue at a movie mansion house looking like it's haunted. They find a kindly, cookie baking asthmatic with sepsis. The station handles an overturned anhydrous ammonia truck leaking a toxic cloud. Chet gets exposed and lung burned and a ruptured spleen during a desperate last second escape from the scene using the squad. The gang rescues an entrapped woman driver from under the truck. Kelly undergoes surgery for trauma sustained from his running fall during the truck rescue escape. Chet sneaks the station's wild resident mouse into Rampart. The squad answers a child skate boarder call. The gang returns to a second call to the movie mansion for a man down, but they find a fallen caretaker woman. Johnny gets trapped in the house's maze and falls down a flight of spring loaded stairs after hitting his head. Brice is called out to respond. Johnny awakens in Rampart and remembers seeing a "body" in the basement so the gang responds back to the house. They find a dummy and the male caretaker trapped in an iron maiden. Station 51 gives the lost puppy to the movie mansion caretakers. Kel Brackett makes amends with his parents.

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The Story Unfolds...

Season One, Episode Two..

FATHER AND SON

Debut Launch: 15 Nov 2002.

From: Date: Mon, 18 Nov 2002 00:17:08 -0000 Subject: Fathers & Sons.

Kel was in his office. It had been a crazy week. That day was no exception. It was enough to make him miss a rare dinner date with his dad. He picked up the phone and dialed his dad's number and waited for him to answer.

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*  
From: "Jean Yasick" Date: Sun Nov 17, 2002 8:56 pm Subject: Possible Start

The morning tones woke the sleepy men of station 51. Some days, the tones were a welcome sound. It meant the shift was over and the men had days off to relax and catch up on family things.

But some days, like today, it was not welcomed. The engine crew had three runs during the night and the squad had five and it was only the first night of an 'experimental' two day shift the department was looking into to try and save money and maximize man power.

Captain Stanley grabbed the mike and acknowledged Sam Lanier. Yawning, he walked towards the kitchen to start some coffee. Hank didn't make it to the kitchen, however. He heard a strange noise coming from the front of the apparatus bay.

He quickly turned around to see what the noise was and was surprised to see a small basket laying over by the bay doors. He approached cautiously, knowing it hadn't been there the night before and was very concerned that it was there now. It meant that someone, somehow, had been able to get into the station, even though the doors were locked.

As he got closer to the basket, the noise repeated itself, causing Hank to jump back. Once again, he approached the basket and carefully lifted the cover. He jumped when he saw what was inside.

"Oh Man! This has to be some kind of joke!..... CHET! Get out here! NOW!"

The men of station 51 knew their captain quite well. And they knew he did not use that tone of voice very often, but when he did, you better listen!

So the men shoved Chet out the dorm door and followed a pace behind.

"Yeah, Cap, what do you......." Chet stopped in his tracks when he saw the basket.

"What the......?"

"That is what I want to know, Kelly!"

"Oh, Chet! You have gone too far now!" said Roy as he backed up a pace or two.

"Really! But you have to admit, Chester B... it does bear a family resemblance!" teased Johnny as he pushed past Roy and headed into the kitchen to start the much needed coffee.

"Funny, Gage!" Chet said as he pushed past Cap to get a closer look at the puppy that was now wakening from its sleep. Pulling the puppy out of the basket, Chet hollered into the kitchen, "She doesn't look like me at all...as a matter of fact, with a nose like that, she kind of resembles your last date!"

With that, the black and brown puppy reached up and licked Chet on the tip of his nose.

"Where'd he come from, Cap?" Chet asked as he tried to move his head away from the wet tongue assaulting his nose.

"I don't know, but there's a note here. Let's see what it says."

As Captain Stanley opened the envelope, the little puppy moved from Chet's nose to his chin and ran his tongue over the scratching stubble.

Johnny walked back into the bay munching on a donut as Captain Stanley unfolded the letter.

"Hmm... it's written in red crayon.....

Dear, Fireman. My name is Chris and I am 7 years old. This cute puppy followed me home from the park, but Mom says he is ugly, and I can't keep him. I have seen that your fire station does not have a dog riding on the big red engine when it buzzes by my house, so I am giving him to you so your engine will not be lonely. Please take good care of him. His name is Chester and he likes to drink out of the toilet."

As Cap finished the letter, Johnny could not contain himself anymore. He almost spit his donut out when Cap read the dog's name, but the toilet part just got Johnny's funny bone.

"Well, Chester B. I see that Chester picked out the right person to bond with!!! Not only do you share a name, but you share an interest in latrines, too!"

"Funny Gage! Very funny!." Chet replied, his face turning slightly red. The rest of the crew laughed for a few seconds, then Roy sobered up a bit as he asked the all important question.

"So Cap, what are we going to do with her..uhm him..uh..whatever it is?" Roy asked.

The rest of the crew looked at their fearless leader as he took the puppy back from Chet. Stanley cautiously turned the puppy over in order to find out for sure what sex it was. When he found out, he turned the puppy back over and looked at his men. They were all standing there like a bunch of five-year-olds asking their dad if they could keep it. He rolled his eyes and started to answer, only to be interrupted by the tones going off.

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*  
From : P. Keiper  
Date : Sun Nov 17, 2002 10:24 pm Subject: Merger

It was a run for their sister station,  
Eight. All the gang let out their collective breaths in anticipation.

Cap finally said. "It's a boy! I'll decide, tonight. Now shoo!"

And he banished his men inside, cooing to the little beagle pup to calm him.

The pup took to a blue laundry basket in Cap's office, filled with clean, storing, stokes ties and long board straps, like a fish to water and soon, went to sleep.

Cap closed his door and said,  
"Shhh. Do, whatever you're gonna do. He'll be fine in here. Kelly. Get a dish of water and some chow for the little guy on the double. We'll leave it by him to find when he wakes up."

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*  
From: rosanne iho Date: Sun Nov 17, 2002 8:12 pm Subject: Only In The Movies

It was an absolutely beautiful, balmy, summer evening in Southern California.

In the rec' room of Los Angeles County Fire Station 51, six firemen sat huddled in front of a TV set, watching the Dodgers and the Padres battling it out in a late-night double-header. The home team had taken the first game. The men cheered, as Dodger's pitcher, Don Sutton, struck out the Padres--one, two, three. The Dodgers came to bat. First baseman, Steve Garvey, hit a single. Outfielder, Dave Lopes, also singled. Sutton walked. With the bases loaded--and no outs--Dodger slugger, Dusty Baker, stepped up to the plate.

"There's the wind up...and the pi--!" the announcer began, only to be drowned out by the Station's alarm.

There was a group groan.

"Station 51..." the dispatcher began.

The television was flicked off. The rec' room reluctantly emptied.

"Man down...unknown type rescue...213 East Morrow Drive...Ambulance responding.  
Two-One-Three East Morrow Drive...Time out...23:02."

"Station 51...KMG-365," Captain Hank Stanley acknowledged, as his crews climbed into their respective rescue vehicles, tossing turnout coats and helmets on. He handed Squad 51's driver a copy of the call slip and then hurried over to assume his seat in the Engine.

Moments later, the rigs exited the parking bay and pulled out onto the dark, deserted street in front of the Fire Station--lights flashing and sirens wailing.

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213 East Morrow Drive turned out to be an enormous mansion with a tiled roof and gables, surrounded by an ancient cottonwood grove. The hedges lining the circular drive were untrimmed, and the large lawns lacked a manicured look, as well. The trucks pulled right up in front of the place. Their drivers cut the sirens, and their occupants piled out. The paramedics grabbed some equipment from the Squad's side compartments and then joined their fellow firefighters at the front door.

Their Captain pressed the doorbell. An eerie 'gong' sound filled the air. The men exchanged amused glances and waited patiently on the moonlit porch for someone to appear. When nobody did, Stanley gasped--impatiently--and hit the 'gong' again...which resulted in several snorts of suppressed laughter. Hank gave up on the 'gong' and began banging a big, brass door-knocker.

'C'mon...c'mon...' Paramedic John Gage silently urged, 'These equipment cases ain't getting any lighter...' He finally set his heavy burdens down and took a step or two back, to stare up at the big, ugly abode. "Yah know...I saw a house just like this on the Late-Late Show the other night."

"Yeah...Me, too..." Firefighter Chet Kelly quietly confessed, as his feet shifted uncomfortably beneath him, "It was in one of those horror flics."

"Right!" John continued, "The butler kept a beautiful blonde heiress chained up in the dungeon! The place was loaded with secret passages and--"

"--And that's the only place you're ever going to find a house like that," his partner, Roy DeSoto suddenly interrupted, "In the movies!"

Gage stared sadly at DeSoto for a few seconds and then slowly shook his head. "No imagination!"

"Kelly! Lopez! Grab some flashlights and check the back of the house!" their Commander bugled, bored with his banging.  
"Before we go barging in," he told his Engineer, Mike Stoker, "I'd better call dispatch and make sure we've got the right address..." He slipped a HT from his right coat pocket and thumbed the call button. "L.A., this is County 51..."

"Go ahead, 51..."

"L.A., request address check on our last call, logged at 23:02..."

"Standby, 51...51, the call reads: Man down...unknown type rescue... 213 East Morrow Drive."

"Roger that, L.A.," the Captain acknowledged, "51 clear." Stanley stared up at the house number--213--for a few seconds and then turned back to Stoker. "Mike, you sure this is East Morrow Drive?"

"Well, if it's not," his Engineer began, "someone's been playing games with the street signs."

"Man!" Kelly breathlessly exclaimed upon his return, "It's even creepier out back!"

His Captain rolled his eyes and questioned the third member of his engine crew, "No answer?"

Marco Lopez shook his helmeted head.

"Well, we can't stand out here all night!" their Commander finally determined and turned the door knob. Stanley smiled, as the heavy portal swung open. There would be no need for the forceable-entry tools. "Fire Department!" he shouted as he stepped into the dimly-lit entryway, "Anybody home?!" No answer.

The paramedics picked their equipment back up and then they, and the others, followed their fearless leader inside.

"This is the Fire Department!" Stanley called out again, "Anybody home?!" Still no answer. In fact, except for the loud ticking of a clock in the entrance hall, the whole house was filled with an eerie silence.

The paramedics sighed and set their heavy cases down again.

Stanley turned to his men. "All right, Roy.  
You and Marco check upstairs! Mike and I will cover this floor. Gage, Kelly, you two get the basement! Move out!"

"What are we looking for?" Kelly nervously inquired of his search partner.

"Beats me!" Gage teased, "It's an unknown type rescue..."

"How about the basement door--for starters!" their Captain impatiently prodded.

The two foot-dragging firefighters fled the entrance hall. They managed to make their way into the kitchen. John jerked a door open--a broom closet. Chet pulled another portal open--a pantry. Gage latched onto a third door's knob and pulled. It's un-oiled hinges creaked, eerily. He smiled, triumphantly and motioned his search-mate over.

Kelly flicked his flashlight on and shone it down a very steep set of basement stairs.

"If there's a beautiful blonde heiress down there," Gage began, "I get to rescue her!"

"That's not a dungeon!" Kelly reminded him.

John stared sadly at Chet, and shook his head, "No imagination..."

"Oh-oh no," Kelly corrected his colleague, "I've got an imagination, all right! That's why I'm gonna let you go first. That way, if there's a tall dude down there--with a long, black cloak and a wolf's-head cane..." he paused to tap Gage on the chest, "you get to rescue him!"

John swallowed hard and started down the stairs. "Thanks!" he muttered, sarcastically. They got about two steps down and then stopped, hearing their Captain calling them. They gladly retreated and went racing back to the entrance hall.

"Yeah, Cap?!" the panting pair simultaneously exclaimed, as they came skidding to a stop in front of Hank Stanley.

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*  
Date: Tue, 19 Nov 2002 18:54:30 -0800 (PST) From: "Jeff Seltun" Subject: The Stuff of Dreams

Kel was in his office. It had been a crazy week. That day was no exception. It was enough to make him miss a rare dinner date with his dad. He picked up the phone and dialed his dad's number and waited for him to answer.

The phone rang two times and the pauses showing his call going unanswered between them only increased his anxiety. ::Why am I feeling like an errant school boy? I'm forty two years old.  
Dad is just dad to me, isn't he?:: his thoughts rose.

------- ------- -------

"Because he's you're dad." Dixie's voice spoke from his memory of a conversation he had a week ago with his husky throated head ER nurse on just that same subject. "And you still look up to him. After all, you did follow in his footsteps getting into the medical field." she said.

"Emergency medicine's a far cry from psychiatry Dix. I didn't follow anyone to get where I am today. Especially not him."  
Kel said a little defensively when Dix's comment stuck a little too far into the real truth of matters. "Also, I've branched off into cardiology, too, and that's an even more unrelated area than being some office bound, leather chair to couch side shrink."

Dix's frosted eyebrows rose in amazement.  
"Oh? I'd say in that way, you and your father are in an area a little closer together my fine, fretting friend. You both deal with matters of the heart. Only yours deals with just the physical aspects of things. You fix the body whereas he fixes the mind. Quite a complimentary pair to have in one family, in my book. You should team up together, Kel. Even if just to compare professional notes or something. Might be a way for you two to work out differences."  
she said gently, handing Dr. Brackett a cup of coffee.

"We are. I have dinner with him once a month."

"Oh, really." Dix said, throwing disbelieving doe eyes at Kel. "There's twelve months in a year,  
Kel. And I distinctly remember setting up reservations at Mannie's for you and your father only twice total, since this time last year.."

Kel's chin twitched. "I've been busy.."

"Yeah, well so have I. " Dix countered. "Although in my case, I haven't been too busy to see family I care about, to drift apart from again, due to carelessness."

From anyone else, Dixie's remark would earn a scathing sharp reply. But Kel and Dix were the best of friends, been old flames even, at one time. And what she said and felt,  
was still very very important to him.  
"You .....really think so?" he said, studying his hands and rubbing absently at their surgical dryness.

Dix shoved a jar of hand cream at him across the lounge table. "I know so. I've seen you two cross by my desk everyday. Brent to his office on the ninth floor and you to yours.  
I can't believe you two even work in the same hospital. He could be in Greece for all the contact I've seen. I can read the whole state of affairs between you two just by the degree of scowling on your faces. You in particular, have a certain cheek twitch that pops up whenever you think of your father.."

"I do not.." Dr. Brackett protested.

"You do... Ahaa!" she cried out in triumph. "There it is again! That's seven times today already."  
She leaned forward, finely filed nails clicking on the formica table top. "And for me, that's a critical sign with only one treatment available in my line of thinking.......Go call him, Kel.  
Arrange one of those well overdue dinner dates. You both are in severe need for quality father/son family time.....Oh,.. Just one thing though.."

Kel's face was sheepish as he used the cream Dixie had given him briskly to ease his chapped aching hands. "And what's that, Dix?"

"Promise me you'll both leave your white doctor coats at home.."

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The phone rang a third time in his ear. By then Kel's cheek twitch had traveled up to his hairline.  
He groaned as the anxiety reached deeply under his skin. ::Come on. Pick up already..::

Finally...

"Hello. Brent Brackett speaking.."

"Dad?"

A pause. ."Is...everything all right down there son? I didn't hear a disaster call go out.."  
Brent asked.

"No. no no.. Everything's fine. Quiet night in fact. So far, only one station is out on a run. Station 51's." and he tried to sound natural as he laughed. "I....just wanted to say I'm sorry for missing our last dinner plans in May. I'd ...like to make it up to you.."

There was a longer silence and then Kel heard Brent slip into his professional mode like he always did when analyzing the emotional tone of a situation. "That'd be fine son, free on the 18th? I'll have my receptionist book us.  
That will give us two days each to think of something to talk about, other than the shop talk like we always end up doing."

"Thanks dad. I'll see you at our usual table."

"Until then. And son..."

"What dad?"

"Don't work so hard. I can tell by how long your head nurse glares at me how little you've slept.."

That comment embarrassed Kel deeper than words. "I'll see you later, pop."

A muted grunt was a reply and the phone line clicked with a snick briskly a second later.

"It's still a little mid artic but at least, the cracks in the icebergs are widening.." said Dix.  
"Here's to progress.." and she raised her mug to Dr. Brackett in salute.

Kel didn't know whether to smile at his accomplishment or admonish Dix for easedropping on his phonecall. He chose to move on to other matters. He cleared his throat, taking a chart from Dixie's hand. The red light in the base station was still on, but not yet flashing. "51, call in with their rescue yet?"

Dix regarded the tiny glass room and the quiet intercom phone still sitting silent by the recorder. "Nope. I just moved their status magnet to Away two minutes ago when I heard the call come in through L.A. dispatch.." she said, pointing with a pen from her desk to the scanner overhead.

"Any indication what it is we got?"

"None. It's an unknown type rescue so far. Literally.."

"Hmm" Dr. Brackett said, handing 51's blank run sheet slate back to Dix.  
"Keep me posted. I think I'll check in on a patient or two while I'm waiting.  
Page me when 51 fires up."

"Will do." and then she smiled, hugely as if with a private observation.

Kel didn't miss it. "What?"

"You're relaxed already. And all it took was a single itty bitty 30 second phone call."  
she chuckled.

Kel's face twitched. "I'll recommend you for a Pullitzer." and he disappeared into treatment two, shaking his head ruefully.

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At 213 East Morrow Drive, things weren't quite as rosy, down right creepy at that.

"Oh-oh no," Kelly corrected his colleague, "I've got an imagination, all right! That's why I'm gonna let you go first. That way, if there's a tall dude down there--with a long, black cloak and a wolf's-head cane..." he paused to tap Gage on the chest, "you get to rescue him!"

John swallowed hard and started down the stairs. "Thanks!" he muttered, sarcastically. They got about two steps down and then stopped, hearing their Captain calling them. They gladly retreated and went racing back to the entrance hall.

"Yeah, Cap?!" the panting pair simultaneously exclaimed, as they came skidding to a stop in front of Hank Stanley.

"Do you smell that?" Cap asked and he started to walk around the room, sniffing, suspicious.

Chet and the gang started to copy him.

Johnny immediately tensed. " Cap, what is it?  
You smell smoke or something?"

Cap shook his head. "No..no.. not smoke.  
smells like... like.."

"Cinnamon ginger bread.." Chet said.

"OoooOOoooo." Marco toned. "Do you suppose the witch from Hansel and Gretel lives here? Maybe we've all been called out to be someone else's dinner.."

The gang cracked up.

"Very funny guys. Creepy house or not,  
that's what I'm smelling. Gingerbread."  
Kelly noticed the dubious looks on all the guys faces..and he clarified defensively.  
"You know.. the kind grandma always makes.  
And it smells like it's coming from over..."

The whole crew followed Kelly's nose to another dusty cobwebby door and he pushed it open. A brightly lit yellow kitchen with oversized stoves and ovens met their eyes.

The station crew's light faces fell away when they found an old man slumped over a table, a phone's receiver still in his hand. Johnny and Roy ran over to him and Gage felt for a pulse. "He's alive.."

The cookies, were just starting to burn. Marco pulled open the oven, and yanked out the scorched tray, and dumped it into the old over sized, old fashioned pump water handled sink.

It took him a moment to figure out the pump was the only way to get to water. He finally pumped enough out to gurgle over the over hot pan.

Mike turned off the gas in the oven.

Roy shouted to his patient.  
"Hey,.. Mister.. Can you hear me?  
We're L.A. County Firefighter Paramedics.  
We answered your call.."

The man didn't move as Roy checked his breathing, right where he was.

Cap lifted his handy talkie to his mouth. "L.A. This is Station 51. We have a confirmed medical rescue. Respond an ambulance.."

##10-4, 51. Timeout 23:16.##

Then Hank knelt by Roy and John as they took off their helmets and got to work.  
"Want him on the floor?"

"Not yet. We don't know what we have.  
He's breathing ok at any rate. But we will need the O2."

Chet Kelly came through the kitchen door with it breathless. "Got it here. That and the defibrillator." He handed them off to John who immediately got them set.

Mike, got leads on an EKG ready on the blue monitor and waited to hand them to Gage and DeSoto when they were ready.

Roy set the unconscious old man on a light flow through a simple mask, leaving him slumped across the table top face down, while John got a BP.

"It's 90 over 64. Pulse 110 and thready."

Roy said, "His respiration rate's 22 and shallow.  
Irregular.." He bent over and checked the man's pupils being careful not to move him much.  
"Equal and reactive."

"Cardiac?" Hank asked.

"Most likely." Roy answered him. "If this were a stroke, his eyes would've told us that. The scope will tell us more.. Give me those Stoker. I'm ready for them."

Mike helped Roy patch the man up.  
As they did so, the old man began to moan and awaken and he lifted his head. Chet supported him in his chair as Roy and Hank got him oriented as to what was happening.  
"Easy there. Take it slow. How are ya doing?"  
Roy said to him. "Know where you are?"

Johnny got on the biophone to Rampart, digging out his green pen from the biobox's lid.  
"Rampart, this is Rescue 51, how do you read?"

The reply was....

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Photo : Dix in a medium shot.

Photo: Hank and Gage in helmets at a scene.  
Close up.

Photo: Johnny treating a cardiac victim with O2 and EKG leads.

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From: "Linda Taggatz" Date: Tue, 19 Nov 2002 23:27:41 -0600 Subject: Re: The Stuff of Dreams

Johnny got on the biophone to Rampart, digging out his green pen from the biobox's lid.  
"Rampart, this is Rescue 51, how do you read?"

The reply was...

..from Dixie. "Rescue 51, I read you loud and clear."

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******************************************* From: "Cassidy Meyers" Date: Thu Nov 21, 2002 2:37 am Subject: The Ginger Cookie Man and the Other Chester B

From Dixie. "Rescue 51, I read you loud and clear."

Johnny looked up and saw that their patient was nearly conscious. He amended his notes on his writing pad. "Rampart, ah. We have a male,  
approximately 60 to 65 years of age. Found comatose and unresponsive. On eight liters of O2, consciousness is returning. Vitals are:  
BP 90/64, Pulse 110 and thready. Respirations are 22 and shallow. Rampart we do have a strip available. Lead two."

"10-4. Relay your telemetry and I'll page Dr.  
Brackett. Please stand by.." Dixie answered.

##Standing by.# Johnny answered.

Dixie got on the red phone and paged the inhouse operator. "Would you please page Dr. Brackett to the base station, stat. Thanks." and she hung up, writing down the information she had received.

Roy in the meantime, put on his best paramedic smile.  
He watched as the old man looked surprised as full awareness returned as he put questioning hands up to his face to the mask flowing oxygen there.  
"Hi there. I'm Roy DeSoto and this gentleman on the phone is my partner, John Gage. We're paramedics from the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Got your call there."

The man gave an intelligible moan and he seemed to be hard of hearing. "Eh? Oh, my dearie. I HAVE caused a ruckus, haven't I?" Then he smelled wet ginger cookies in the kitchen. "Oh, no.. there goes all afternoon's work.." he said.

Chet smiled for the man's voice sounded for the world like Mr. Hooper from Seasame Street. Kind and warm. "Yeah, well, rest easy sir. We got the gas turned off for ya."

Roy set his hand on the man's stomach to get a new breathing rate. "So, what's your name?  
Can you tell me that?"

"Eh? Oh, oh. It's Fajou.. Reginald Arthur Fajou.  
Been living in this house since... uh.... I can't remember rightly.. Could have been since the war.. or was that WW One?" he gasped.

"I see. Listen, Mr. Fajou.." Gage said. "Do you have a history of any heart problems? Breathing problems? That sort of thing? You seem to be in a little distress here."

"Ohh..." Arthur said, thinking.." Martha tells me I got asthma.. and....that's about it...."

"Who's Martha?" Roy asked. "Your wife?"

"Eh?..Ohnn no.. She's ma landlady. Heh. She's been real nice to me. Letting me bake for the kids working and filming at the movie studio and all." and he started to laugh in memory,  
weakily, until a wet coughing made him grip Chet's hand tightly. "Oh, my.. Not feeling so good today.. Little weak.."

"Well, we'll get ya to the hospital and have a doctor take a look at you, ok?" Roy asked.

"All right. If you say I have to go.. I I will. Don't want to get Martha mad at me. She's been so nice to me, don't you see? And,..I had a nice ...*cough* pan of cookies made just for her.. hhmm."

"Yes,sir.." Roy said and he began to get a more detailed medical history on Arthur while Johnny got Kel Brackett on line.

Gage began to relax as the reading showing on the scope indicated only some elevated ST segments on a sinus rhythm. Nothing dire. He set the phone and its cord over his shoulder while he listened to Arthur's breath sounds. He heard only light bronchial wheezing.

"Ohhhh, that's cold sonny.." Arthur said of the metal drum Johnny placed on his skin.  
"Like ice.."

"Sorry.. Easily fixed.." Johnny said with a grin and he warmed it in his palm with a breath before finishing his task. Mentally, he upgraded Arthur's consciousness level to good.

Roy bumped down the percentage of O2 on their patient when Johnny gave him a thumbs down gesture. Gage said, "COPD's confirmed."

"Ok, then, we'll just keep you sitting, allright Arthur? You can breathe better this way in the chair..?" Roy asked.

"Y- Yeah.. That's why I came into the kitchen.  
Usually I stay by the fire while they bake, you see? But then I *cough* got a little dizzy.  
and the room started spinning round and round.  
I got scared, you know.. So I called for help.  
Glad you boys are here, because.. I'm not feeling so good today.." Arthur sighed softly.

His charm was irresistable to the other firemen hovering nearby and they all broke into grins of amusement. Cap noticed the pictures on the wall. "Say,, Arthur.. I know this movie.  
And this looks like your front porch here on the poster.."

"Heh.." Arthur grinned around his mask.  
"It is.. I've been baking cookies for the studios for so long, they.. they come over every once in a while...to make a movie.  
know what I mean..?"

Chet and Marco both nodded. "Sure do."  
Kelly piped up eagerly, joining in Cap's enthusiasm."We're great fans of most of them. Attack of the Ghoulies and last year's Grandchild of Frankenstein here. Do you really have an iron maiden in the basement down there?  
We didn't really quite make it down there before Ca-"

Lopez smacked Chet silent before Cap could use the eye on him.

"This is Dr. Brackett, go ahead, 51."

Johnny continued his report. "Rampart our victim's got a history of chronic occlusive pulmonary disease. He admits to asthma. I've listened to him and he does sound a little wet on the left side.  
And his breathing's slightly labored.  
We've amended his liter flow to four a minute."

Kel finished reading the report Dix had taken on him and looked up before thumbing the intercom. "Give me his strip 51. Is he coherent enough for you to get a oral temperature on him?"

"That's affirmative on both, Rampart.  
Transmitting EKG." Johnny said, dialing the EKG monitor to send mode.

Dr. Brackett eyed the rhythm he received.  
"51, I'm reading a normal sinus rhythm over here with only slight variations. Is the O2,  
helping his dyspnea at all?"

"That's affirmative. He was slightly cyanotic when we found him on the table top but he's now pinking up albeit a bit clammy and chilled."

Roy finished getting a temperature on Arthur. "Hmm.. 97.1"

Johnny reported this in.

"All right Johnny, start an IV Lactated Ringers, TKO only and transport as soon as possible. Keep him upright and comfortable and continue to maintain O2. That drop in temperature might be the early stages of septicemia or other etiology. I want a new vitals set in five minutes.."

"10-4 Rampart. IV LR TKO and O2. New vitals in transit. The ambulance has arrived." Gage said.

A few minutes later Arthur was warmly wrapped in wool tan blankets and his IV was in place in Marco's hand. As he was wheeling with the stationhouse crew he said. "You boys are so kind... when I get out ..you come back and I'll bake some nice, hot gingerbread cookies for you.. ok? You boys are so nice.."

Gage grinned all the way into the Mayfair.  
It was he who rode in with Arthur the stage kids' cookie man.

--------------------------------------------

The engine was already backed into the garage and abandoned by the time Roy and Johnny had replenished supplies and had made their farewells to the ill Mr. Fajou.  
The station house was quiet after Johnny and Roy turned off their backing reds,  
removed their helmets and left the squad.

"Hmm. I wonder where the guys are?  
Are they sleeping?"

Roy walked across the bay and peeked into the bunk house, flicking on the light for a sec.  
"Nope. The bed's are still made up.. All of them.."

Johnny flicked a wrist up and checked the time. "Wow, no one's sleeping? It's almost three a.m..."

Roy shrugged as they made their way by the large county map and into the kitchen.  
"Maybe they're watching the rebroadcast of the game...."

"At three a.m..? Roy.. no channel airs games at three am in the morning.. Geesh.." he said as his calm demeanored partner preceeded him through the door he held open for Roy.

No one was at the table nor at the frig.

Johnny and Roy both turned on a dime.  
Looking towards the black leather couch and the TV chairs. The TV, was dark.

And all the gang were on their hands and knees surrounding Henry's old dog house. It was still dusty and weather beaten from sitting in the yard. Chet was hastily scrubbing it clean with a bucket of water and Bon Ami. He looked up.

"Heya guys.. About time you showed up.  
You almost missed the big moment. The little fella's about to go into his new home for the first time.."

Johnny's jaw flopped open.. "You mean,  
uh, you mean Cap said Yes..?" he chortled,  
trying to keep his voice down.

"Yeah, man. Guess the abandoned pup kinda got Cap's thoughts rolling about us losing Henry.  
It's been two years you know, since Henry's real owners showed up to claim him." he nodded.  
"Maybe, uh, maybe Cap's a little dogsick."

"Maybe we ALL are.." Marco piped up eagerly,  
still on his hands and knees. The gang was carefully playing with the shy, but active beagle puppy keeping him in a ring before their laps, more than one trying to get the tiny guy to notice the doghouse doorway by tapping it.

Roy and Gage joined them all on the floor,  
abandoning themselves to the moment.  
"Come on boy. Come on.. Don't you see it? There's a nice big bone in there.." Gage babytalked to the pup.

"Eeeoowww" Kelly exclaimed. "Do you think we should really let him have Henry's old bone, Gage. Kinda dirty after two years in an old doghouse out in the yard."

"Would you just hush.. I'm trying to bond here." Gage said.

The moment Johnny looked up, the pup's attention wandered and he scampered over to the nearest lap he liked. Cap's.

The pup stumbled gracelessly into Hank's stomach and then turned circles before settling down with a contented sigh after licking Cap's face once on the chin.

"Well whatdiya know.."Roy grinned. "He knows who to thank doesn't he?"

"Smart dog.." Hank said, keeping still as the new puppy closed his eyes.  
"uh oh,, looks like he's going ta sleep on me. Dang.. My leg's are going to too if I stay this way.."

The gang hastily grabbed Cap by the shoulders and legs and Chet said.  
"Don't move Cap. You'll wake him.  
We'll move you to the recliner."

"Kelly! Would y--"

"ShhhhHHHH!" The rest of the gang said.

The beagle whimpered but then started snoring again just as fast.

Hank finally tossed his head. "All right.  
Lift me." he said, feeling ridiculous.

Soon, he was settled in the black chair with the pup safely nestled like a sleeping Sphinx in his lap.

The gang immediately made for the bunks,  
abandoning Cap and his puppy in the chair.  
"Hey, you're not just going to leave me here?"

"Aww cap.. Do you really want us to make him cranky? I mean, these early puppy to family bonding days are crucial. You're just gonna haveta spend the night in the arm chair." Kelly reasoned.

Cap scowled but stayed quiet. "All right. Just this once. Somebody get me a blanket." he said, adjusting the tiny pup's snoring face until his snores softened into easier sleeping breaths.

Marco wasn't past teasing. "You know.. he just might have to sleep every night in your lap, Cap,  
after this.."

"No he won't. Because if he needs to he can spend the night on somebody else's lap instead,  
like tomorrow night in yours Lopez?"

"Aww cap.. I can't sleep a wink sitting in a chair."

"Didn't say it was an order. But.. Lookiethatcuteface.  
Can you deny him the benefit of a warm body's comfort?"

"That's what a hot water bottle in the dog house is supposed to be for.." Marco said.

"No dog is ever going to get into Henry's old doghouse."  
Mike Stoker said. "Chet's logged more hours in there than Henry ever did."

The gang laughed.

Johnny came back from grabbing a blanket out of a spare closet for Hank . "Here ya go, Cap."  
and he tossed it up into the air.

"Gage, would you be careful?!" he said, barely saving it from burying the tiny dog. "You could've jarred the little guy.."

"Sorry..Cap."

Kelly was thoughtful. "Say, listen Cap. Now that we're keeping him, we can't just keep calling him Little Guy.. I mean uh, his previous owner says his name is uh,.." and he broke off in embarrassement.

"Chester.." Gage said and the gang giggled.

Cap said, "No, he's more like a "lapper" "  
he said patting where the puppy was lying deeply in slumber.

"All right. Ok. We can call him Chester."  
Chet said defensively. "I just don't want to hear anybody and I mean anybody,  
ever.. call him Chester B.."

Gage sniggered, "Why Chet? Does the B stand for something that really gets your blood pumping?"

"No.. It's just--" Chet said, hastily avoiding Gage's advance on him in yet another attempt to ring it out of Chet what the answer was to that greatest of all Chet mysteries.  
Johnny grabbed Chet by the moustache and backed him into the wall.

"Ahhh..owww.." Chet said, freezing as Johnny held him hostage with a twist of just one hand. "Hey come on, let go of m--"

Johnny wrist lifted higher. "Once more Chet, what does the B stand for?"

"NOthing."

"What? I can't hear you."

"Nothing at all. It's just a nickname....AhhhHH."

"I don't beLIEVE you.." Gage singsonged.

"It's trueeeEEE! Hey let go.."

Cap's voice finally cracked out. "Gage..!"

Johnny instantly let go, smoothing out Chet's collar where it had rumpled. "Next time.  
You're gonna tell me.." and he walked back over to Cap and knelt by the tiny oblivious pup. "So, what shall we give to stand for little Chester here's second letter of the alphabet's initial eh? And it's just gotta be a "B"..." he smiled lipped fully cocked. And he met everyone's eyes.  
"Any suggestions?"

-------------------------------

Photo : Cap glaring from his recliner.

Photo : A very cute brown and white beagle pup looking at you, eager faced.

Photo : Chet and Johnny squaring off, Roy looking on shaking his head in disbelief.

*  
From : "satchie51" Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] Dinner Reservations Date : Fri, 22 Nov 2002 15:50:32 -0000 Outside Mannie's Restaurant..

Kel reluctantly relinquished his car to the restaurant's valet. He walked toward the entrance with the enthusiasm of a man facing his executioner, not his own father. Summoning his resolve, he approached the maitre d'.

"Yes sir. How may I help you?"

Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I'm joining Dr. Brent Brackett for dinner."

The maitre d' nodded. "Ah, yes. He's been expecting you. Please come this way."

Numbly, Kel walked to the familiar table. A distinguished looking gentleman was already seated.  
He glanced disapproving at his watch. "You're late. I thought perhaps you changed your mind."

"I'm sorry. Things got a bit hectic in the ER at the last minute. I didn't think I was going to be able to get away," Kel apologized.

The elder Brackett appeared dubious. "I see."

"Dad "

"It would have been typical of you not to show up.  
You've been avoiding me like the plague for ages."

Kel guiltily stared at his fingernails. In truth,  
he had initiated this dinner engagement at Dixie's urging. Over the past two days, however, he must have considered at least a dozen excuses to cancel this evening's plans. Emotional intimacy had never been his forte, especially with his father. He deliberately accepted the responsibility of two additional patients after his shift ended in order to stall for time. That's why he was running twenty minutes behind schedule. Breaking the awkward silence, Kel motioned to the waiter to bring him a drink.

Brent raised his eyebrow. "Am I that unpleasant to be around that you need a drink?"

"No. No, of course not. It's been a long day,  
and I'm tired and I'd like a scotch." Noticing the glass clutched in his father's hand, Kel retorted, "I see you're imbibing in your usual poison. Do you need alcohol to feel comfortable around your own son?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Then stop interpreting my actions as though there's a hidden psychological meaning behind them. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"Point taken," Brent conceded. "So how has work been, besides busy?"

"Pretty much the same," Kel shrugged. "The new hospital administrator doesn't appreciate the value of the paramedic program to the community, so I've been having some interesting `discussions' lately."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

The other man thoughtfully steepled his fingers.  
"Why not?"

"Dad, I'm not one of your patients, all right?"  
Kel was developing an excruciating headache.  
He began to methodically massage his right temple.

"Kel, for crying out loud! I'm a psychiatrist,  
not a witch doctor. It's an honorable profession.  
Unfortunately, you've always acted like you were ashamed of what I did for a living. I didn't get my degree out of a cereal box. I went to medical school at Harvard, and completed a residency and fellowship at Johns Hopkins, perfectly respectable institutions. Somehow you never seemed to accept my vocation as a `real' job. Sitting in a plush office and keeping a schedule didn't seem to fit your definition of work."

"Don't you think this conversation is a little one-sided? As I recall, you weren't exactly supportive of my educational choices either. I wanted to put myself through school so I wouldn't feel pressured to follow in your footsteps. I waited on tables, parked cars and even worked as an evening janitor at the university in order to put myself through school. Granted, I didn't have the same Ivy League education you had, but I earned my way through my own efforts, and I'm proud of that.  
And I distinctly remember how horrified you were when I announced I wanted to go into emergency medicine. You called it barbaric, and said I'd wash out in a week." Smiling smugly, Kel added,  
"Well, I'm still here."

Shaking his head, Brent argued, "You still don't understand what this is about, do you?"

"I presume you're going to enlighten me."

The father sighed in frustration. "You've been so blasted determined to escape from what you perceived to be my shadow, you've been running at full throttle most of your life. You thought my occupation was boring, so you chose the most exciting one you could imagine, emergency medicine."

Kel pondered this thought while he took a sip of his scotch.

"But don't you see?" Brent asked. "You're still acting like this is some bizarre competition between us. It's not, you know."

Mercifully, the waiter appeared to take their order. Kel had little appetite, but knew he was expected to follow the ritual. Without looking at the menu, he mechanically recited the desired items. His anxiety was mounting with each passing moment. Concealed by the linen tablecloth, he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Dad, I simply wanted to be my own man. That's a normal desire."

"That's true, if not taken to extremes. But you never know when to draw the line. Everything is all or nothing, black or white," his father chided.  
When you decided to become a doctor, you couldn't settle for just any specialty. You had to outdo me and prove you were better than your old man. And what could be more dramatically different than a field that deals with life and death issues every minute?"

His father's words cut him with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach was making its presence known. Kel replied, "You've never accepted the fact that we're totally different people with different interests. Maybe sitting around talking to people all day long is your cup of tea, but it isn't mine.  
I thrive on the excitement of the emergency room."

"What is it precisely that you find so appealing?  
Is it the power you wield of being the head of the department, or saving people's lives?"

Kel's famous temper flared. "Saving people's lives,  
of course!"

"And you don't think I help save people's lives?"  
Brent shot back. "You may have looked down upon my profession and the scheduled hours I kept, but they allowed me the luxury of being able to raise a family and participate in a healthy social life.  
On the other hand, you'd rather work like a maniac to the exclusion of all else. You're forty-two years old and you have no life to speak of. You're not able to sustain relationships, and your time is essentially confined to the hospital and your apartment."

Color began to drain from the younger man's face.  
He was furious that his father would dare to presume to lecture him, particularly in a public setting.

Undeterred, Brent continued. "Even though we rarely get together, we do work in the same hospital. I know you're working yourself into an early grave.  
Your long hours and avoidance of vacations are legendary. But it's taking its toll on you. You look exhausted. You're pale, you've lost weight and you look like you're not sleeping well."

Incredulous, Kel warned, "This is none of your business."

"You're my son. That makes it my business."

A war waged within Kel. He was angry with his father for pursuing this line of conversation,  
and with Dixie for insisting he schedule this stupid meeting. Most of all, he was angry with himself for allowing events to unfold as they had.  
After all these years, he should have known better than to discuss certain topics with his father.  
It was a foregone conclusion he would always lose these heated debates. The throbbing in his temple worsened.

"Dad, you have no right to make judgments about how I choose to live my life."

Brent leaned back in the leather-upholstered chair.  
"Then answer me this question. Did you succeed?"

Kel was thoroughly confused. "Succeed in what?"

"Did you prove to yourself you're not me?"

"I don't understand."

"Obviously you thought I was so terrible that you went through extraordinary measures to avoid being like me. In personality, temperament, interests,  
profession, you've tried to be my opposite in every way. But you're a grown man now. You've established yourself." Brent's tone softened and he gently placed his hand on Kel's forearm. "Son, if you're still running away from something, do you even know where you're running to?"

Suddenly Kel felt the room was closing in on him.  
Overwhelmed by nausea, he bolted from the table and raced to the men's room. Standing over the toilet, he proceeded to lose what little he had eaten earlier in the day.

A few minutes later, he splashed his face with cold water to revive himself. He caught his reflection in the mirror. For the first time, he didn't see the cocky, self-assured head of emergency services at Rampart. He saw an insecure little boy wanting to be anyone but his father.

--------------------------------

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*  
From : "satchie51" Subject : Shattered Date : Sat, 23 Nov 2002 20:54:00 -0000 Kel sat in his darkened apartment, contemplating the evening's events. Past experience conditioned him not to expect a cordial relationship with his father. The best he could hope to achieve was a peaceful coexistence, and the best way to accomplish that objective was simple avoidance.

Yes, dear old Dad managed to undermine that plan.  
Kel erroneously assumed when he moved to Los Angeles,  
there would be adequate physical and emotional distance to discourage contact from his father.  
He planned to make perfunctory phone calls on special occasions, and perhaps travel home to Boston during the Christmas holidays. But his father ruined that brilliant theory. Inexplicably,  
six years ago he closed his posh private practice and joined the staff at Rampart.

Justifiably, Kel was furious when he heard the news from the hospital administrator. His father didn't even have the decency to notify him personally, which he deemed unforgivable. Through hard work and perseverance, Dr. Kelly Brackett had finally attained the level of professional success he sought. He was held in high esteem as the director of emergency services of Rampart General Hospital, and he was supremely confident in his abilities. Unfortunately, his father's arrival signaled the return of his long and imposing shadow.  
It seemed there was no escape.

Since that time, they both performed an exotic dance around the hospital each day. Kel would arrive early in the emergency room and immerse himself in the department's activities, pretending nothing had changed. Brent Brackett would appear later in the morning and wordlessly take the elevator to his ninth floor office. Occasionally the two men would pass each other in the corridors.  
They would awkwardly acknowledge each other with a nod of the head or a mumbled hello, and then abruptly break off eye contact. As a token of atonement for missed father/son quality time, Kel would arrange dinner at Mannie's once a month,  
although he frequently found an excuse to miss the appointments. Simply being in the older man's presence was humbling and painful.

It was hard to believe there was ever a brief period in his life when he looked up to his father and desperately sought his approval.  
But over the years, the senior Dr. Brackett couldn't resist the temptation to mold his son into his own image. He became critical of Kel's brooding, intense nature, and began to psychoanalyze his every act. If there was some behavior or shortcoming his son possessed,  
there had to be a hidden psychological reason behind it. Therefore, it became his mission to eradicate the offending conduct. Brent did not anticipate Kel's reaction. Instead of meekly complying to accommodate his father's grand scheme, his headstrong son rebelled. He was determined to do the exact opposite of what was demanded of him. The relationship rapidly deteriorated, and they never recaptured the emotional intimacy they once shared.

Tonight's disastrous attempt at dinner only reinforced Kel's growing sense of anxiety about the situation. How long could he continue this absurd charade?

He walked over to the sliding patio door and placed his palm against the cool glass. It was a moonless night. Somehow it seemed appropriate for his increasingly dark mood. The more he thought about his father's words, the angrier he became. In a blind moment of rage, Kel slammed his hand against the door, shattering the glass onto the balcony. Stunned, he stared at the blood dripping from his arm. Several seconds elapsed before the significance of his action sunk in. He was bleeding.

The calm, cool-headedness of his profession eluded him. Kel was emotionally dazed by the destructive act he had just committed. He wrapped his arm in a kitchen towel as he fumbled through his medical bag. After superficially cleaning his wounds, he applied some 4x4s as pressure dressings and wrapped his arm with gauze. In disbelief, he sat on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He lost track of how long he lingered there, when a loud knock interrupted his trance.

"Police! Is everything okay?"

Kel was totally confused. What were the police doing at his apartment? He slowly roused himself and answered the door. "Yes, how can I help you?"

The policeman took in the physician's disheveled appearance. "Your neighbor called in a disturbance.  
She heard the sound of broken glass and thought you were being robbed." Glancing at the bloodstained bandages, the officer inquired, "Were you injured in the attack?"

Confusion was quickly replaced by mortification as Kel realized his careless deed had attracted unwanted attention. "No, there was no robbery.  
It it was an accident."

The seasoned officer was dubious. Noting the location of the bandages, he wondered if this was a self-inflicted injury or perhaps a suicide attempt. "Why don't I take you to a hospital to have that looked at?"

"No, that's okay," Kel assured him. "I'm a doctor. I'll take care of it."

The blood continued to splatter on the floor as they spoke. "Sir, with all due respect, you look like you could use a little help with that.  
I'm sure it would only take a few minutes."

Reluctantly nodding his consent, he followed the officer to his patrol car. He dreaded the inevitable barrage of questions he would be subjected to at Rampart.

* * * * *

Now that the initial shock had worn off, Kel was becoming increasingly anxious. His demeanor did not improve when the police officer insisted on accompanying him into the emergency department.

Dr. Morton was the first person to notice his boss' presence. "Dr. Brackett! What happened?"  
he asked as he guided his mentor into a treatment room.

"I had a little accident at home. It's nothing,  
really."

The officer surreptitiously motioned to speak to the intern. Mike said, "Okay. Well, have a seat and I'll grab some blank forms from Carol. I'll be right back."

Soon Mike returned, paperwork in hand. He efficiently took Kel's vital signs and frowned at his findings. "Hmm. Your blood pressure is really high. Has it been elevated lately?"

"No," Kel wearily replied.

"Then there has to be a reason for the sudden increase. Is it reasonable to assume it's related to the injury to your hand?"

A pronounced silence was his answer.

"How exactly did this happen?" Mike probed.

After taking a deep breath, Kel barked, "I cut myself. Isn't it obvious?"

"On purpose?"

"Of course not! Do I look like an idiot?  
The glass door shattered!"

Mike countered, "By itself?"

Kel glared at his subordinate. How dare he presume to press this issue and humiliate him further. He had given his account, and that should end these ridiculous questions.

Sensing they were at an impasse, Mike began unwrapping the blood soaked bandages. "These cuts look pretty nasty. There doesn't appear to be any vascular damage, but most of them are deep enough to require stitches."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"I'll have Carol get everything set up.  
I'll be back in a moment."

Mike made a hasty retreat and headed for the nurses' station. A nagging feeling tickled his brain. Kel's behavior and his description of the "accident" didn't add up. Perhaps there was a more sinister explanation. "Carol, who's on call for psych?"

She consulted the schedule. "Uh, that would be Dr. Brent Brackett."

The intern sadly shook his head. In the first place, it would be inappropriate to ask a family member to consult on a case. But it was also common knowledge the son and father had a strained relationship. Mike was certain the senior Dr. Brackett was NOT to be contacted in case of an emergency.

He needed help in assessing whether Kel needed to be held for psychiatric observation in light of the deep slashes to his arm. Turning to the nurse, Mike said, "Page Dr. Early. I need him here as soon as possible for a consult, and tell him who the patient is." He waved Maggie over to the desk. "I need your assistance in Treatment Room 3."

They entered to find an agitated Kelly Brackett awaiting their return. "What took you so long?  
Let's get this over with so I can go home."

Mike removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I had a call I had to take care of."

Kel impatiently offered his injured arm to the intern. "Well, get to work."

Knowing it would take about fifteen minutes for Joe to reach Rampart, Mike carefully cleaned the wounds and began suturing the deep gashes. Fearful of antagonizing his boss,  
he kept conversation to an absolute minimum.  
He was enormously relieved when he heard Joe's gentle voice break the eerie silence of the room.

"Hey, Kel. I heard you had a little mishap.  
How are you doing?"

Mike concentrated on the task at hand, well aware of the menacing gaze that was being directed at him.

"I'm fine," Kel growled. "Did they call you?"

"Yeah. They're a little worried about you,"  
Joe said reassuringly.

"Well, they shouldn't be. I only need a few stitches and I'll be on my way."

The white-haired physician sat down and folded his arms. "Kel, think about it from our point of view. A police officer brings you in.  
You're stressed. You have several deep gashes on your arm, and you're less than forthcoming about how they got there. What would normal procedure be?"

A light bulb went off in Kel's head. "Cr*p.  
A psych consult would probably be ordered."

"Do you know why this wasn't done?"

"Because I'm the head of the department and Mike didn't want to embarrass me?"

Joe informed him, "No. It's because your father was on call tonight."

"I don't believe this!" Kel shouted. "I can't get away from that man!" He wildly jumped off the table, unexpectedly pushing Mike away as he was still suturing the wounds.

"Kel, settle down!" Joe commanded.

"You don't understand. I just spent a miserable evening with him. I've spent most of my entire life trying to break away from his grasp. But no matter what I do or where I go, there is he is!"

The picture was coming into focus. Joe needed time alone with his friend. "Mike, I'll take care of this. Thanks for everything."

After the door closed, Joe began. "Come back and have a seat and we'll talk while I finish sewing you up."

With the enthusiasm of a lamb being led to the slaughter, Kel lowered his head and made his way to the exam table. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"About?"

"Causing so much trouble for everyone. I try to keep my personal life private. But I guess everyone knows my father and I aren't exactly on the best of terms."

"What happened this evening that was so upsetting?" Joe asked.

"Oh, the usual." Kel tried to sound nonchalant.  
"We each have our own unique perspective on things."

"That never caused you to put your hand through glass before."

The dark-haired man's temper quickly flared,  
and then dissipated. "Well, I think in his own warped way he was trying to extend an olive branch, except it was thinly disguised as a reiteration of my faults since childhood.  
Suddenly, it all seemed so infuriating."

His task complete, Joe began applying a dressing.  
"You know, you're a lot alike in one respect.  
You're both stubborn."

A small smile crept across Kel's features. "I come by the trait honestly."

"Look, this problem isn't going to solve itself.  
You're here, he's here, you need to get together and work this out."

"You sound like Dixie."

Joe grinned, "She's a smart cookie."

"Don't encourage her!" Kel laughed. "She already thinks she runs the department!"

"She doesn't?"

Kel's mood sobered. "I suppose I need to tell her about this before she hears it from someone else." He rose to his feet. "I'll give her a call from my office."

"I have a better idea. You can call her from my place," Joe proposed.

"That's not necessary."

His colleague firmly insisted, "I want you to come home with me tonight. After you call Dix,  
I'll give you something to help you unwind and get a good night's sleep. Take tomorrow off and collect your thoughts. In a week or so when you feel up to it, call your dad and make another dinner appointment. Maybe if you're the one offering the olive branch, you'll find the peace terms more agreeable."

"After all these years, I'm afraid to hope," Kel admitted.

"But at least you'll be able to find comfort in knowing you tried."

Tossing his coat over his shoulder, Kel followed his friend out the door.

---------------------------------

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*  
From: "Linda Taggatz" Date: Sat, 23 Nov 2002 21:31:45 -0600 Subject: Re: Shattered

Kel and Joe soon arrived at Joe's apartment. It was cozy. In one corner stood a piano.  
"Nice place Joe." Kel said as he looked around.  
"Thanks." Joe told Kel to take the coat off and toss it on the chair. Kel complied, then sat down.  
Kel put his head in his hands. "I don't know anymore Joe. I don't know what to say to him. Maybe if we start talking about mom things will relax. But then, he never wants to talk about her."  
Joe got curious. "Why is that?"  
Kel shook his head and said "I wish I knew."

--------------------------------

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*  
From : "patti keiper" Subject : Breakfast Banter Buffet Style Date : Mon, 25 Nov 2002 15:21:22 +0000 Breakfast Banter Buffet Style

Cap's voice finally cracked out. "Gage..!"

Johnny instantly let go, smoothing out Chet's collar where it had rumpled. "Next time.  
You're gonna tell me.." and he walked back over to Cap and knelt by the tiny oblivious pup. "So, what shall we give to stand for little Chester here's second letter of the alphabet's initial eh? And it's just gotta be a "B"..." he smiled lipped fully cocked. And he met everyone's eyes.  
"Any suggestions?"

There was a brief pause, for the briefest moment,  
as Chet walked through the kitchen doors leading to the garage bay and the quiescent fire vehicles parked there. Kelly almost whispered his suggestion,  
".....Bartholomew." and he trudged morosely towards the bunkroom.

Gage and the others froze into place in their tight ring around Cap. Even Cap's finger paused, from stroking the little beagle's sleeping forehead. "W-W- What did he say?"

"Oh my G*d. I don't believe it.." Marco said. "He said Bartholomew.."

"Yeah, but was that a suggestion for Chester or was that in reply to Gage putting on a little elbow grease to Chet's moustache?" Stoker asked them all.

Cap's eyes bugged out and all his smile lines smoothed out in rapt frankness. "The world may never know.."

The gang chuckled in reply, but not Gage.

Yipp! barked the sleeping puppy in his dream. The fellas immediately fell to shushing each other and tiptoed out of the kitchen, leaving Cap the honor of spending the first night with the new station mascot. Johnny's self satisfied smirk at a successful Chet tease fizzled into uncertainty as he pondered Stoker's musing. When they all were well out of the range of young canine ears, Gage asked his partner. "Whatdidya think, Roy? Whaa -- uh, which way do you think we should take Chet's answer..?"

"Careful, Johnny. Don't get into it too much. Or you just may have a complex about it." Roy answered as he peeled shirt and pants down to boxers and a T shirt and sailed with an amused clunk onto his bunk. "You know how devious Chester B can get when it comes to getting you back for muscling around with him."

Johnny's face alternately smiled and fell as he regarded Chet Kelly slumbering for all the world like King Nebenezzer on his bunk with his fingers laced nonchalantly over his chest.

Gage turned his back on the sight, not sure about whether or not Chet was smiling or frowning.  
::Can't tell behind that d*mned moustache:  
he groaned mentally, shifting irritably onto a shoulder to try and forget about it.

Sleep was a long time in coming.

----------------------------------------

Breakfast was spread out like a posse's standard grub with a partial roasting steer the next day. The guys, feeling guilty about tricking Cap into spending first nightwatch over Chester, fed him right where he was,  
in the armchair. Stoker had even gone out into the yard and had picked Hank a magnolia for a bud vase with the breakfast tray he hand delivered to him.

"Guys, you didn't have to do this.." Cap said,  
rubbing sleep mussed hair and his face as he shifted his weight in the chair gingerly around the still oblivious Chester Bartholomew lying like a tiny sack of potatoes in his lap.

"Oh, yes we do, Cap. I mean, what fireman in any firehouse is more self sacrificial than a Cap?  
Am I right fellas?" Chet asked, shoving buttered toast into his hungry maw. He chewed, puffed cheeked as he added. "Made an example of all of us, for ditchin him and keepin him all last night away from the comfort of Cap's own bed." he said. He took a gulp of his too hot coffee a little too fast and started choking a bit.

Roy gave his back a thump or two as he reached for a green apple from the fruit basket in front of the breakfast rib roast Stoker had smoking on the spit all last night. "Easy there Chet. Don't talk, chew." DeSoto said, taking a half moon bite out of his fruit.

"Yeah.." Gage agreed, his own cheeks big with bagel. "I wanna get through chow without a still alarm, Kelly, if you don't mind.."

"Very funny Gage. Tell me something there, uh,  
buddy. What uh, what is YOUR middle name if you don't mind me turning the tables on ya.  
And I'll just ask it since you don't have any facial hair for me to grab onto.."

Marco nearly spit out his fresh squeezed pineapple juice chortling. Stoker rescued him with a toss of a folded towel. When the light laughter bubbled away into sounds of contented eating, Lopez said, "Yeah, Gage. You don't have anything on the back of your turnout coat. Just "Gage". "

"My secret.. So shush.."

Chet didn't give him any further clues to answering Gage's Chet mystery by responding back.

Cap looked up from where he was adjusting a china blue bowl filled with steamed water moistened puppy chow on his breakfast tray under a ravenous Chester's face. The little one was eating so fast, he was snorting and almost tipping nose up into the food. "Whoops, slow down there Chester Bartholomew.. or you'll end up as fat as ol Henry used to be.."

Chet looked up suddenly from his paper as if he was the one addressed. Just as quickly,  
Chet shot eyes back down to his plate.

Johnny's eyes narrowed suspiciously when he saw that reaction. But for the life of him, he couldn't tell whether or not Kelly had thought Cap was speaking about him or the new puppy.  
::I coulda told that a lot better if Kelly grabbed his stomach or something too, then, at Cap's comment. "Man.. I'll never find out my answer.."  
he grumbled to Roy.

The guys laughed.

"Yeah well, this too, shall pass. No doubt you and Chet will live to fight another day.." DeSoto said,  
regarding which piece of his sliced apple to devour next with his milk. Then he chose two at the same time and followed up with a thick bite of BBQ beef rib. He was the only one eating with a fork. The others were eating off the bone,  
including Chester Bartholomew.

"Not if he keeps eating so fast like that he won't."  
Gage said cheek muffled with a beefy spear,  
glaring at Kelly.

"I got a fine example of how obstructed airways happen, too, Roy, right in my line of sight.."  
Chet said, in retort back, making runway guide motions right at his current source of verbal torment sitting across the table from him.

"Peace you two.." Cap said, finally extricating himself from the recliner, leaving Chester happily diving into what was left on his tray.  
Captain Stanley saundered over to the bulletin board and snatched down the weekly rounds chart board. He was the only one still in a blue uniform. The gang was still in T-shirts and pullover pants-and-boots. "The weekly fire violation rounds list. Today, only one on the books."

"Aww Cap, can't it wait until after breakfast? Turns my stomach learning about folks who like living in a fire hazard zone instead of following codes."  
Chet complained.

"Shutup and chew.." Cap replied. "You're gonna hear this one. In fact, all of you might have an invested interest in this case."

"Oh?" Roy grunted.

"Yeah." Cap replied. "We have an excessive brush violation at....213 East Morrow Drive..."

All jaws stopped chewing when they remembered that the address belonged to one very very nice old man living in a very very creepy looking old house.

Gage's mouth crooked open in regret. "Aww, Cap. We can't go handing out a fine to kindly ol Mr. Fajou.. I really like that guy. Wouldn't be nice of us to leave it tacked onto his front door like that to find once he gets outta the hospital.." he added sarcastically.

Stanley snapped back defensively light. "You got any better ideas?"

"Yeah..I do." Lopez said. "Come guys, we got nothing better to do this weekend, and I know that for a fact because there's no games in town. Why don't we just skip out on our normal routines and go over there to do a little weed control ourselves. It'd be easy for us. We're licensed to do a controlled burn."

Both of Cap's eyebrows climbed up into his hairline.  
"Hey, that's a wonderful idea. We can all trade shifts mutually with Saturday's crew in trade for Friday and get this done for the old guy. I can have Eight's brush truck sent over for Stoker to use."

There came a chorus of eager yes's and O.k.'s all around. Even another yip from Chester where he sat in the recliner near the licked clean dish tray.

All heads turned. "Wow." Stoker remarked. "Maybe we found ourselves a new dish washer. Just look at Cap's tray. Clean as a whistle.."

"Heh... Don't give him any bright ideas.." Cap said. "That's just a first morning privilege."  
he grumbled. "Wouldn't want him to pick up any really bad habits from us now would we..?"

Chet made a show of licking BBQ off his plate by lapping it like a dog.

"Very funny Kelly.." Cap said. "For that, you get latrine duty this morning.."

"Awww, Cap.."

"Aww, nothing. When you make Cap, you can find ways to delegate the more unpleasant firehouse duties in the least painful ways to your crew, too,  
just like I did.." he chipped up.

"You're all heart.." Kelly mumbled.

"What's that, Kelly. Didn't quite hear you? My other inferiorly ranked men are all laughing too hard."

"I said, uh, you're so smart." Chet said, stirring his grits morosely. Then his eyes shot up in alarm. 'Uh,  
I don't mean "smart" as in sarcastic, Cap. At least not in, uh,, not in...that case..." he trailed off sheepishly,  
and escaped into the newspaper to hide from the moment in hot water.

"Let's hope not, Kelly. The hoses in the tower need to be reloaded.."

Chet was a mouse behind the funnies section.

Stoker and Marco's hands raised up. "Give it to us Cap.  
Only fair.."Mike said. "We got out of it last time due to a timely dumpster fire call."

"Good men.. Kelly, did you see that? Lopez and Stoker actually volunteered to do one of the sweaty jobs." Cap said.

"Yeah, well I don't see them lining up for the smelly one.." Chet groused.

"Quit eating like a horse and maybe the bathrooms would smell a little better in the morning Chet.." Gage retorted.

"Yeah, I had to use a half can of Lysol Disinfectant just to breathe earlier.." Marco quipped, joining Gage's bandwagon.

"I can't help it.." Chet said. "I was born with an efficient colon. At least I don't let them loose while giggling at erotic dreams in my sleep like Marco over here."

"I do not.." Marco protested vehemently.

Gage sniggered. "Uh, is that in reply to part A or part B of Chet's previous sentence Marco.  
Your crewmates would really really like to know."

Marco just glared. "You try working in a firehouse with a mama who stuffs YOU full of beans and enchiladas just before your twenty four hours on shifts, I'd say you'd be tooting them too."

"I'll stick with the engine's horn thanks.." Mike said.

Gage scored a point in the air for Stoker.  
"Ok, ok, that explains the gassier aspects of your nightly exploits. Now, tell us about your dreams, Marco Lopez.... Is she cute?"

"I'm Catholic!" Marco protested. "I don't have to confess to you.."

"You might as well.." Gage warned in jest.  
"I see a greaaattt moustache gripping handle there under your nose..." and he rose in his chair.

"Cap!!" Marco squeaked.

Johnny was already in his chair and chewing his last bite of food by the time Cap's eyebrow was fully cocked into the firing position. Hank settled out of his warning glare and continued chewing the piece of apple he had stolen from Roy's plate. "What? I see no problem here. Except for maybe a stack or two of too many dishes.  
Lopez. Dish detail."

"Awww, Cap. I thought you were supposed to safeguard your men." Marco said.

"I just did. Do you see Gage pinning you against the wall where he had Kelly squirming last night?"

"No."

"Good, then hop to it. Stoker was the one who cooked today. Gage, you got floor detail, a full wet mop job. DeSoto, vehicle buffing, chrome only. Looks like rain today."

"Well what about you, Cap?" Lopez still singing, stung.

"I have a new chore. I get to show Chester here where to go..."he grinned. And he hefted up his little charge and wandered out cooly into the yard.

The guys all rose from the breakfast table and fell to.

Johnny was grinning at Marco's still red face from Chet revealing out a night secret so boldly, but even he wouldn't poke a man when he was down. ::Well,  
not a fire fighting coworker at any rate, just a victim on a scene to learn a consciousness level. Heh.:: he thought. Then he said, "Say Roy.. Us going out this weekend to help ol' Mr. Fajou is really gonna be fun. I mean, Vince's got the keys to his place, right?  
Maybe we can even all go in and clean up his kitchen too for him."

Roy angled his head skeptically as he helped Lopez grumpily stack plates as he carried each armload to the sink. "I don't know, Johnny. Most gourmet cooks don't like people messing with their kitchens."

"Who's to say Mr. Fajou is a gourmet chef? Well,  
maybe a pastry baking one.." he admitted. "Still wouldn't hurt to do this good deed thing a notch or two better."  
he grinned cockeyed.

Chet piped up. "Yeah, maybe we can learn what's finally in that basement of his and in all those other creepy rooms, man."

Johnny waggled his head. "I don't think Mr. Fajou would appreciate us snooping around his house now would you?" he moaned caustic.

"Gage, that place's an historic landmark.."

"You mean a haunted one.." Stoker quipped from around the newspaper.

Kelly went on as if he hadn't heard Mike interrupt him. "...Mr. Fajou probably gives movie tours to the studio kids he bakes for all the time. I mean uh,  
what's the difference if it's kids or firemen getting thrilled to death in there..?"

"A big one, Chet Kelly. The poor guy deserves a little privacy in his own home.." he insisted.

Kelly's eyes hit the table and his fidgetting fingers drumming there."Looks more like the old guy needs a friend or two Johnny.." Chet said. "We can always act scared and nervous when he gets back and gives us a tour for doing his yardwork this weekend."

Roy grinned, folding his arms over his shoulders.  
"There's that, Johnny. Come on, give in to a little curiosity..."

"Nice sentiment Roy, aren't you Catholic too?"  
Gage said.

"Doing a nice thing for somebody else isn't a sin.." he replied.

Marco agreed firmly. "Look it up.."

John shot both of them a disgusted look.

Then the alarm went off, for a full station call.  
##Station 51, Engine 18, Truck 127. Battalion 14. Truck overturn with a chemical spill on the Pacific Coast Highway at Southbound mile marker 513. Multiple vehicular overturn on the PCH at Southbound mile marker 513. Cross street Dungeness. PD reports approach with caution. Be advised. An unknown gas cloud has prompted start of evacuation action from the CHP. Timeout, 07:10. ##

Cap's shoes came pelting by the kitchen door and he received the call as the men moved out. He handed off Chester B to Roy who left the bewildered young pup safely on the recliner. "Be good pal. See you when we get back." DeSoto told the little dog,  
rushing out.

Cap acknowledged the run. "Station 51, 10-4. KMG 365.."

The entire company rolled out.......

----------------------------------------

Photo: A very sleepy Beagle pup.

Photo: Roy and John getting set for resting on their firehouse bunks.

Photo: Chet Kelly sleeping like King Nebenezzer.

Photo : Station 51's rescue call speaker.

*animated gif* A massive fireball explosion mushroom cloud.

Photo: A gas cloud at an accident scene enveloping two running people.

*  
From : "SM Fortis" Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] The Restaurant Confessional Date : Wed, 27 Nov 2002 09:42:38 -0600

Grateful to be home in his own apartment, Kel stretched out on the couch. Despite Joe s advice he wait awhile before scheduling another reconciliation attempt, Kel promptly contacted his father and made reservations for dinner that evening. Patience never had been his greatest virtue. His colleague was right in one respect.  
If Kel dictated the terms of the meeting and tried to keep the conversation on message, perhaps he would feel more in control of the situation. He was determined not to feel powerless in the presence of Brent Brackett again.

Since his return home, Dixie called twice to make sure he was okay. To combat his growing anxiety,  
Kel occupied himself by spending most of the afternoon performing errands and browsing at a jazz record store Joe was always raving about.  
After purchasing a couple of albums, he glanced at his watch and headed back to his apartment.

He was pleased to discover the patio door was already replaced. One unpleasant reminder of the previous evening s events was now conveniently eradicated. Unfortunately, the stark white bandages wrapping his right hand and arm were still grim reminders of his angry outburst. Kel cringed at the memory of his senseless act.

Placing his package on the table, he headed toward his bedroom and began rummaging through his closet for an appropriate suit. After a quick shower and shave, Kel changed clothes and left ahead of schedule.  
He thought if he arrived at the restaurant first,  
he would feel less intimidated by his father. He was resolved not to leave in humiliation again.

The maitre d promptly greeted Kel and ushered him to his table. He briefly closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the exchange that awaited him. Looking through the windows, Kel saw a spectacular sunset. Somehow the scene comforted and encouraged him. The advice of his friends was at the forefront of his mind right now. The sooner he could establish some common ground with his father, the sooner their fractured relationship could begin to heal.

Shortly thereafter, the elder Brackett was escorted to the table. Kel rose not only as a point of etiquette, but also as a token of respect. Brent offered his hand in greeting, and suddenly Kel felt self-conscious about his injury. Pasting an uncomfortable smile on his face, he gingerly shook his father s hand.

Brent frowned. What happened to your arm?

Oh, I had a little accident at home. I m fine. Eager to deflect attention from himself, Kel asked,  
Did you have any problems finding the restaurant?

No, not at all. Your directions were quite specific. Appreciatively eyeing the premises,  
Brent remarked, This place has a very cozy atmosphere. How did you happen upon this amazing little discovery?

Kel inwardly smiled at the memories of many pleasant evenings he shared with Dixie here. A friend introduced me to it several years ago. I hoped the change of venue would provide a fresh start for us. There would be no ghosts from the past to haunt us. Signaling the waiter, he ordered a round of drinks for the two of them, preferring club soda for himself. He decided he could not afford to have his thoughts clouded by alcohol,  
nor his famous temper unleashed by lowered inhibitions. No, tonight Kel needed his complete faculties.

His father s brow furrowed. You re not having your usual?

I m taking some medication, Kel lied.

I heard you took a rare day off today. Is everything okay?

That was the problem with a small community like Rampart, news traveled fast. How much did his father know about last night? Kel s answer was evasive. I had some personal business to attend to.

I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you this afternoon, Brent said. I thought our last meeting went rather badly.

Taking a sip of his drink, Kel proceeded, That s why I wanted to see you again so soon. I think we ve allowed this situation to go on long enough.  
Don t you agree?

His father sighed. So, has the prodigal son experienced some glorious epiphany since we last met?

Dad, I m simply tired of this ridiculous state of affairs. We ve been at odds since I was a kid.  
Okay, I m not a brilliant psychiatrist, so maybe I m too dense to understand the official psychobabble explanation. But I m smart enough to know this standoff has come to an end.

You always have been willful.

The men were granted a respite when the waiter came to take their order. They sat in silence for several minutes, each studiously avoiding contact. It was painfully obvious neither felt comfortable in the other s presence.

Finally, Brent addressed his son. I understand you were upset with me last night.

Kel shot his father a baleful glare. We re not here to discuss MY problems. We re here to discuss OURS.

Okay, so what s really on your mind?

Attempting to keep his tone of voice devoid of emotion, Kel asked, Why DID you move to Los Angeles? Of all the places in the country you could have relocated to, why did you have to move here, and why did you choose to practice at Rampart?

Brent stared at the table centerpiece. Your mother wanted the two of us to make amends. Since it was obvious you weren t going to make the first step, she thought I should swallow my foolish pride and initiate the process.

I don t understand.

When you were a boy, we used to enjoy spending time together, as strange as that seems now. We went almost everywhere together. A small smile escaped Brent s lips. I used to take you to the hospital with me, and you d tell anyone who would listen that you were my son, and you were going to be a doctor like me when you grew up.

The older man remorsefully shook his head. But soon your youthful boasts appealed to my vanity.  
I envisioned you as my own immortality, so I wanted to remold you in my image. Since you were always so willing to please me, I assumed you would be agreeable to this arrangement. I honestly pictured us spending quality time together over the years,  
and in due time, I foresaw the day when you would take your rightful place as my partner in my clinical practice.

But it didn t quite work out that way, Kel said flatly.

Unfortunately, it didn t. I pushed you away instead. In my arrogance, I refused to recognize you as a unique individual. You always had a sense of your own identity.

I resented you dictating my life, Kel stated.  
You never bothered to ask me if I wanted to participate in your grand plans or not. All I knew is one day I was Dad s precious son who could do no wrong, and then the next you found fault with everything I did. No detail was too insignificant to escape your exacting scrutiny.  
I thought you didn t love me anymore.

But that was the problem, Brent explained. I loved you too much, but in an unhealthy way. Ironic,  
isn t it? Here I was, a well-renown psychiatrist,  
but I wasn t able to see I was sabotaging our relationship. Every time you rebelled and became angrier, I became more critical. Because you failed to conform, I assumed you were stupid and ungrateful.  
I felt like a failure not only as a father, but also as a psychiatrist. My ego wouldn t allow me to admit I had failed. Until the day you left, I had to keep trying to remake you.

Kel rubbed his face. Why didn t you say anything before?

Saying I m sorry has never come easily to me.  
I didn t realize the full implications of what I had done to you until you were gone. By that time,  
we were barely speaking to each other. Over the years, begging for forgiveness became next to impossible.

Conflicting emotions swirled within Kel. He was angry with his father for not mentioning any of this earlier, but he understood how difficult it must have been for him to do so tonight. Kel took after his father in that respect. It was not in his nature to cross emotional barriers without significant effort. If it were not for the encouragement of Dixie and Joe, he would not be here this evening having this conversation.  
He knew he was hardly in a position to judge his father on this particular point.

But he also felt a myriad of other feelings:  
abandonment, betrayal, resentment, bewilderment and surprisingly, still even love. Kel saw his father with new eyes. Brent didn t look so arrogant and controlling now. Instead, he came across as an aging pathetic figure that once hoped to live forever through his son.

For a long period of time, the two men did not speak. They were content to nurse their drinks and stare into oblivion. They were relieved when the waiter served the food. For a few moments they would be spared the necessity of having to engage in conversation.

As they began to eat, Brent looked on with genuine concern since Kel seemed to have trouble carving his steak due to his injured hand. Do you need any help with that? he offered.

No, that s okay, I have it under control. I m pretty good with a knife, if I do say so myself, Kel grinned.

I see you haven t lost your sense of modesty over the years.

The son shrugged. It s hard to be humble and great at the same time.

You re a lot like your mother in some ways, very resilient and single-minded. I know you tend to think of it as a sign of weakness, but you re more compassionate like she is. Brent softly said,  
After all these years, your mother has never forgiven me for driving you away from us. I m not sure I ve forgiven myself.

Kel was confused. He wasn t sure what he expected from this evening s meeting, but his father s uncharacteristic confession certainly wasn t it.  
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Recent conversations with Dixie and Joe weighed heavily upon his conscience. Years of hurt could not be easily erased with a simple apology. Yet, they needed to begin somewhere. He thought of his mother,  
and the years of anguish this rift must have caused her. Didn t he at least owe it to her to make an effort?

Staring at his nearly full plate, Kel tentatively cleared this throat. Dad, as you ve pointed out before, I ve never been good at maintaining relationships. But maybe now is a good time to begin. Don t you think it s time we started behaving like two grown men and put aside our differences, if for no other reason than for Mom s sake?

I don t even know where to begin, Brent said reluctantly.

Cautiously leaning forward, Kel spoke. Perhaps it s time for you to visit me in my office for a change. You know, see me in my natural habitat?  
It s possible I subconsciously went into emergency medicine to spite you or to prove something to myself.  
But somewhere along the way I discovered it was my passion. I really love this field, and I m good at it. I can t imagine being happier anywhere else but the emergency room of Rampart. What do you say, Dad?

Brent considered his son s proposal. I don t know.  
I heard the head of the department can be a real bear and a force to be reckoned with.

No, those are all vicious rumors, Kel chuckled.  
He s a real pussycat once you get to know him.  
At least that s what the head nurse is fond of pointing out.

Speaking of the head nurse, do I have your reassurances she s not going to bite my head off if I set foot in the ER? She must think I give you such grief.

No, Dad. In fact, she s one of the reasons I called you. Dixie has been after me for ages to get me to end this conflict. She s a persistent woman.

Sounds like your mother, Brent joked. The two men laughed. For the first time all evening, they felt genuinely relaxed.

How about meeting me in my office for coffee tomorrow morning? Kel asked. I can give you a tour of my department. With a tinge of a little boy s expectation in his voice he added,  
Hopefully you ll be proud of what your son has become.

-------------------------------------------

Photo: Kel in a gray suit.

Photo : A California sunset.

Photo: Posh brick rustic restaurant's interior.

Photo : Joe Early by the coffee mug shelf.

Photo : Dixie looking no nonsense and listening.

Photo : Dr. Brackett answering a rescue intercom call.

Photo : Kel in the coffee lounge, closeup.

*  
From : "Cory Anda" Subject : Mad Dash... Date : Thu, 28 Nov 2002 08:20:24 +0000

Offstory:

Acknowledgements HazMatZone .com/training/hazmat/studies/2002/03_ For information about anhydrous ammonia spills and detailed hazardous material clean up procedures.

Acknowledgements to Tom Stafford MD Firefighter/Captain On Foam Truck Hazmat Procedures via email.

Acknowledgements to P. Keiper NREMT, for first aid advice treating such exposures for characters in story and finding anhydrous related image jpegs for me.

Back In Story:

##Station 51, Engine 18, Truck 127. Battalion 14. Truck overturn with a chemical spill on the Pacific Coast Highway at Southbound mile marker 513. Multiple vehicular overturn on the PCH at Southbound mile marker 513. Cross street Dungeness. PD reports approach with caution. Be advised. An unknown gas cloud has prompted start of evacuation action from the CHP. Timeout, 07:10. ##

Cap acknowledged the run. "Station 51, 10-4. KMG 365.."

The entire company rolled out.......

----------------------------------------

Roy sped the squad down the boulevard as Johnny doubled checked the exact location of access to the scene in his head.  
"The best exit to use for that ramp is the PCH itself, Roy. That part of the freeway wraps around a bend in a canyon. Let's hope whatever the gas is coming from this spill doesn't float too high. There are about sixty homes in the area on the bluffs." Johnny finally said.

"Let's hope for the best." DeSoto replied.

The communications channel patched between all responding units was in a flurry of activity.  
They could hear Highway Patrol chattering urgently as they continued their evacuation of the cars in the area, and one merchant's business. Then, came the reassuring voice of Battalion 14, already on scene. ##Battalion 14 to Station 51. Approach from the Southbound direction, downwind of the wreck,  
two cars and one semitruck are involved. Wear full SCBA turnout and stay out of the area until Hazmat moves in. The truck involved is a NH3 nurse truck with confirmed top tank valve leakage.##

John and Roy heard Cap pick up the mike,  
"Batallion 14, Station 51. Acknowledged. Southbound entry in full respiratory apparatus, understood."

"Oh, great.." John moaned. "Anhydrous ammonia. All our turnout jackets might as well be paper suits for all the protection they'll give us once we're in there."

Roy glanced at his partner. "Yeah, well, let's just hope the Santa Anas keep the cloud blowing away from us.. Shouldn't be a problem today..."

"I wouldn't bet on it. Look." Johnny said. In the sky,  
rare, heavy rainclouds were blowing in off the ocean to their left as they sped ahead of the Ward LaFrance. "If that rain gets here. That spill's gonna go. You know how reactive anhydrous is to free water.."

Soon, the thickening stalled traffic made Roy slow,  
and two CHP motorcycles joined up with them to show them the twisting curving route to the accident scene in between the stopped, now emptied cars on the roadway.

"Wow, they acted fast. There're no bystander victims on the curbs." Johnny said. "Amazing.. That gas cloud's huge.."

Through the windshield of the squad, a tenuous white steam-like misting of gas fumes,were pooling against the cliffs around the truck in a long plume, carrying downwind.

Then they saw it. The involved truck, it was upright,  
almost intact. But beneath it lay a sportscar and one woman, fouled and trapped behind her crumpled steering column. Truck 127's men were already on scene with bottles and masks advancing on her with mist fanning hoses into the air to dissolve away any lingering swirls of ammonia from over her location.

Roy screeched to a halt two hundred yards from the truck.  
"Gotta stop here. If that gas cloud doubles back, it'll corrode the vehicles."

"Not to mention us, too." Gage said grimly. "She must be alive. They're spraying a defensive pattern over her.."

DeSoto and Gage rushed out of the squad cab and met up with Cap and the gang in a hurried group as they all grabbed SCBA and pulled out high volume water hoses.  
Roy and John had their air bottles and masks on in less than a minute. "Cap...?" Roy asked, ready for instant instructions.

Hank Stanley stood, his helmet off in hand, holding his mask to his face and he motioned them all nearer.  
"I want you all to take a look at where the liquid puddles are now. Remember where they are when you start laying down water. That is where the ammonia lies. It's subliming into gas and it's -28 F. Watch your step or your clothes and shoes will freeze burn to your skin faster than dry ice! If you get any liquid on you,  
start stripping off all clothing immediately and get under a firm wash.. and don't stop hosing down. Only way to thaw those kinds of burns. Any fumes will dessicate your eyes and mucous membranes on contact. And the only thing that will help it is water. Tons of it. Oh, and I don't think I have to tell any of you guys to avoid other engine companies hose runoff. Anhydrous is caustic ammonium hydroxide when diluted with water until its through absorbing water to satiation.  
Don't worry about sparks from extrication equipment.  
This stuff's not flammable out in the open.  
The gas cloud will turn transparent as it spreads but you'll be able to smell it long before you reach a dangerous area. Remember, your safety comes first. If I tell you to retreat, do it sooner than yesterday. Ok, move out.."

The gang circled the truck widely, avoiding the deadly cold shiny spill stain spreading from under the dripping misting valve of the shattered semi and moved onto a narrow strip of dry concrete that Batallion 14 and the other crews were utilizing near the trapped woman's sportscar.

Cap lifted his handy talkie to his mouth. He now had a better idea of what they were dealing with. "Foam Truck 127. Move in.  
The only leaking areas I see are immediately beneath the semi.. Lay a full covering spread. Confirmed pressurized anhydrous ammonia leak. The tank's got the proper labels all over it."

Gage watched Roy sprint over to the other car, crumpled and on the side of the road.

"Chief?" Johnny yelled through his mask. "How's she doing?"  
he said to the older white helmeted man directing the water curtain misting team holding fast between the woman and the semi. He could hear the dark skinned woman moaning from where she sat pinned in her seat.

"She was talking a while ago, but she's starting to have some trouble breathing. Just get her out before you treat anything beyond the basics. This wind may shift on us with that thunderstorm approaching." the Battalion chief replied. "Careful in there.. And do not use any O2 at all. The moisture from it will only burn your victim's lungs and her eyes if she takes in any concentrated ammonia gas to her face using it while still being this close to the leak. Wait until you're evacuated."

Johnny saw a pair of legs lying under the semi where the truck driver had fallen after escaping his cab and he started forward.. The chief grabbed his arm,  
shaking his head. "He's dead.. we found his face frozen solid to the ground. Looks like a direct stream hit him when he tried to shut off the valve to protect the woman."

Johnny swallowed dryly and he nodded,  
firmly making himself not looking at the man's upper torso after hearing that.

Roy and Johnny gingerly made their way over to her, wincing as hose mist dampened their coats and hissed as minute traces of ammonia gas sizzled on the rubber they contained.  
Their breathing sounded hollow behind their masks, whistling in their ears. Terror made them begin to sweat immediately.

Johnny shouted to the woman putting own his best calming smile and soothing voice.. "Hey, how are ya doing?  
Just relax, we're gonna get you outta here.." He said,  
moving a quickly ungloved hand to her carotid for an assessment. "You hurt anywhere besides your legs?" he asked. "Anything in your neck or back?"

The dashboard hid most of them from him below her knees, but he saw no visible blood anywhere on her pants legs.

"No, I'm fine..agh. Get me out of here.. Can't...can't.  
b- breathe." and she gasped and her eyes rolled into her head.

"Cap!! Step up that misting! The fumes are doubling back!!" Gage shouted, holding the woman's throat and chin tipped up as far as he could. He could feel her chest heave as she began to choke a bit. Gage lifted her larynx up with his fingers and her stridor eased off. "Hey.. You're fine.. Just keep breathing.  
Nice and slow and very shallowly. Now we're gonna get you out of here real fast. Just relax... You hear me?" he shouted, muffled through his mask.

The woman was beyond talking, but her eyes never left Johnny's and her hands tightly gripped his wrist where he was managing her airway for her. Her struggling eased off as blissful clear air returned around them from the displacing water fan's effect.

The fireteam near them added another hose to the water curtain swiftly, and found the best angle to utilize the clearing winds until they pushed the wispy edges of the gas cloud away from the paramedics and their victim.

Chet and Marco sprinted up with a K-12 and jaws and Roy was right behind them with news about the other car. "The other driver's ok. Just bumps and bruises. The CHP got him out just fine, he's waiting for us. Just has a simple fracture of the right ulna. What do you got here?"

"Dyspnea. Moderate laryngeal spasming. And her legs are pinned. She says they don't hurt at all. I didn't see any bleeding. Her C-Spine's clear. Can you tell anything down there? I haven't checked her out very well yet because of this.." he said angling his head to mean the lifting airway hold he was maintaining on her with both hands over her throat at the angle of her jaw.

Roy said, "Hang on." And he moved to the other side of the car, crawling in as well as he could over the woman's lap to check. "Just a panel of the dashboard over her left knee. The jaws should be able to handle that well enough.  
Nothing seems to be broken.." he said, moving careful hands over her lower limbs.  
He straightened up, "Kelly there's a good bar right down there to put the chain. String it up would ya?" he said calmly.

"Right.." Chet said. Then his eyes fell on the woman's name tag, still on her shoulder. "Daphne, now we're gonna pull this car off your legs, won't hurt at all but it's gonna be real loud for a while. Just some sounds of twisting, popping metal all right?"

"O-Ok.. ugh.." her voice rasped hoarsely.  
Johnny hastily readjusted her head's placement when her eyes suddenly closed.

"Hey hey, now Daphne.. Stay with us.." said Johnny. His forearm never left her diaphragm nor lifted away from the breaths he could feel moving there. "She needs O2. Fast. Daphne,  
don't...black out. We need you to- ah, h*ll..."  
and he shifted position, taking the full dead weight of her head into his shoulder as Daphne lapsed into limp unconsciousness.

There was a loud thudding of hollow liquid and metal from above and they all hunched down, anticipating trouble..

All the firemen looked up to the nurse tank truck's roof when a man from Hazmat suddenly appeared above the leaking valve in a full chemical suit to deal with the source of the spreading cloud. They heard his satisfied grunt when all it took was a flip of the tank's sealing cap and a twist of its pressurized valve to stop all the bad fumes.

Everyone sighed in relief. But the Batallion chief said,  
"We're not out of the woods yet. That cloud will hang around for hours before it dissipates. Only water will carry it into the soil where it will be absorbed.  
Stay away from it.. And we'd better hope it doesn't start to rain. That will flatten the cloud like a pancake and we'll all be enveloped before we even have a chance to run. Get her free and move her out to the half mile perimeter at the minimum.."

"Yes sir.." Roy replied.

The Jaws and K-12 came to life under the assisting Truck 127 firemen's gloves, working to free Daphne.

The sportscar was foreign made but soon, brute mechanical strength made the front end uncrumple and fall away.

Kelly piped up from the front tire spot. "We got it! We got it. Gage, DeSoto, you can pull her out anytime, but hang on just a sec, and let me get a wooden longboard for her. It won't melt down in the ammonia if it gets wet like a metal stokes would." And the stocky masked and helmeted fireman ran for the station's engine.

"Bring a C collar too! And a short oral airway! I wanna get one in before she swells up any more."  
John shouted after him.

Three minutes later, Daphne was breathing secured,  
and almost free when a new smell reached those on the outskirts of the evacuated area.  
Rain.. on hot concrete.

"Rain!! Everybody out of there! Now!!!" Cap shouted into his HT. "Move it! Move it!! That cloud's gonna bloom big time..."

All the firemen around the car dropped their hoses and grabbed Daphne's board gracelessly.  
And Roy, John and they, ran with her, top speed, away from the semi truck.. leaving behind all else.

The cloud of anhydrous NH3 above them writhed ominously, expanding with the gift of water,  
and then hideously, it began to settle, on the way to smothering those running on the ground beneath it.

Station 51's vehicles were nearest to the semi.

"Move move!! Everybody on.. We're getting outta here!" Stoker ordered..

The firemen hefted up Daphne's long board onto the back of the engine and clung to the side rails as Stoker hastily fired up the engine and rapidly backed away down the freeway in a race to avoid the spreading cloud of gas. Roy and Johnny barely managed to get the squad, festooned with un-chem suited hazmat men hanging on to whatever they could, out of there when a wall of caustic puffing vapor occupied the place where they had just been..

Roy frantically wove in between cars, driving back wards as fast as he could, until he was convinced he was outdistancing the rain spiked gas plume's widening fringe.

In Roy's mind, he was intermittently terrified and amused when Stoker maneuvered the LaFrance with all the lurching grace of a drunk rhino, in reverse, along their same torturous route in between the maze of stopped abandoned autos on the highway.

Mike almost didn't see a Harley, and he threw the steering wheel full left to avoid it.

Chet, his grip insecure, fell off the side from the landing when momentum flung him wide.

He impacted the road violently, and rolled with his heavy tank bottle still on his back, in front of the squad. Roy slammed on his brakes when he saw a canvas backed body lurching in his rear mirrors. "ohmyg*d" Gage said, and both Johnny and Roy's eyes slid back the way they had come to the rolled tanker to see a huge angry semi transluscent wall of ammonia boiling down upon them.

Then they both glanced back at the stunned Chet, who was just trying for his feet. Johnny said, "Move Roy,  
move.. We'll pick him up as we pass him by.."

Roy didn't speak, he acted. And the squad began to pick up speed once more in reverse.

"Get up ! Get up, Chet! Grab onto me!!" Gage shouted,  
throwing an arm through his open passenger window for Chet to snag onto. "It's almost on us!"

Terror made Kelly get up immediately and he started sprinting for Johnny's hand and the squad's landing board like a hobo trying to catch a caboose.

Along the way, Kelly shed his breathing apparatus in pieces,  
clearly running for his life. The bottle fell away finally and Chet stumbled only once before his running finally gained him the ground he needed, he caught up with Roy's continuing high speed reversing.

An errant gust of wind caught Chet full in the face and it came with poisonous teeth and rain.

Kelly's hands flew to his eyes and he screamed, just as Johnny grabbed his arms and hauled him partially into the squad, belly down.

--------------

Others motorists in the safe area saw the engine and squad escaping the spreading cloud only by slim meters as yet unaware of what was happening in the cab.

They began to cheer when the two reversing red vehicles regained their lead on it, and began to pull away.

Those cheers turned to shouts of horror when they saw Chet's legs and lower half dangling precariously out the window of the high speed backward traveling rescue squad.

------------------------------------

Photo : A nurse tank semi truck with an anhydrous ammonia topper.

Photo: Johnny with a choking woman trapped in a car.

Photo : A hazmat team member sealing off a top tank ammonia leak in a full chem suit.

Photo : Chet Kelly being supported by Cap and Johnny.

******************************* Date: Thu, 28 Nov 2002 00:49:07 -0800 (PST) From: "Sam Iam" Subject: Across the Finish Line..

Gage's arms were about ready to drop off from Chet's dead weight in the window.  
"Chet! Chet! Did you get any of that in your eyes?" he said, gasping, straining to hang onto Kelly's belt through his faceplate.

"Yeah. *cough* Owww.....hurry. Need a hose.. uuhhhGGGg. ahh sh*t!"Johnny could see Chet's eyes suddenly and involuntarily screw shut.

John hauled Chet over onto his back where he was on his lap, ignoring the rest of Kelly still half hanging out the squad's window as Roy continued to steer the squad backwards, and he forced Chet's eyes open between firm trembling fingers.

Gage's other hand found the two gallon jug of water always kept under the dash by his feet for brush fires and he sloshed it liberally into Kelly's face, "Let's get this wash in.  
Come on!.. Come on.. Don't fight me.  
Open your eyes.. Chet stay still.. ."

"I'm gonna fall! I'm slipping! AhHH! My eyes!"

"You're not gonna fall out of the squad."  
Johnny threw a leg over Chet's waist to keep him from sliding back out the window.  
"I got you.." and he gave a strong heave to get more of Chet into the cab. "Chet, hold still. I gotta wash your face and those eyes out good or you'll burn real bad."

Roy's hands were struck from the steering wheel by Chet's pitching head, deep in his pain, but he quickly recovered control. Somehow, the men clinging on the outside of the squad were pure barnacle, and no one fell off.

"Chet, it's ok.. We're almost clear.." Roy shouted.  
"Let Johnny get to your eyes! We gotta get that stuff outta them."

"Aghh.. I'm on fire! It's so cold! Ahh..HHh." Already Chet's voice was raspy and deep from exposure to the gas.

Johnny grunted, pouring more water even faster into Chet's eyes, forcefully.

It seemed like years but finally Roy said.  
"Ok, we made it. We're there.." his voice cracked. Roy could see the gang from the engine already on the far side of the police accident barricade, watching them intently.

DeSoto hit his air horn, letting them know Chet was in trouble beyond just his fall off the engine and how he was riding half out of the squad.

Half of them came at a run, while another company stayed behind to carry Daphne from 51's Ward's hose bed, back down to the ground.

Gage was still irrigating Chet's eyes in his lap desperately, by the time Cap and Marco got to him and hauled Chet bodily out of the squad's windowframe. "Cap, gas caught him in the face,  
real bad." he said. "How are you doing Chet?"  
John said rocketting out of the squad and slamming the door shut. He ran to the gear compartment doors and whipped them open, grabbing the 02 apparatus and a 2 liter burn saline bag.

Kelly felt Cap keep him from reaching up to his face with his hands and he opened his eyes. "Better.. *cough*.."

"Good now just let Cap keep washing your eyes out.." Johnny said, handing the solution IV pack over to Hank. "Let me and Roy get the rest of the equipment out of the squad..That saline won't sting your eyes so much.."

"See to the girl first. I can wait.." Chet gasped, still fighting to see around the painful prickling in his eyes. He felt Stoker wrap one of his arms over his broad shoulders to support him as they moved to the staging area near the waiting ambulances.

Gage grinned. "Let us be the judge of that. She didn't get thrown out of a vehicle like you did Chester B."

"Really I feel fine, guys.. Just a few lumps and these knives plunging into my eyes.."

"Yeah?" Hank said, "Well, you're in for a complete bath." Cap said, continuing to pour saline from a pour spout into Kelly's eyes under his grip. "Mike,  
Lopez, grab him and let's go. Engine 18's got a decontam area already set up over here.." And Mike and Marco attempted to scoop up Chet into a two man carry, which Kelly resisted.

"I can walk.. I can walk.. I'm just squinting cause it hurts. Not because I can't see." Kelly complained, throwing off Stoker and Lopez's help. The two grinned,  
and contented themselves with walking at Chet's side while Cap continued to wash down Chet's face and eyes thoroughly from the oversized IV bag.

Cap jibbed in. "Man what a close call, eh Kelly? Despite what happened to you, this rain's a blessing in disguise. It'll soak all that ammonia into the ground for us, where it'll dissolve into the rocks . A twenty minute shower will be enough to do the trick. We'll be able to tow away the wreckage and open the freeway again by nightfall." he grinned.

"Lucky us.. Rain on just the day we need it.."  
Chet commented, trying to be brave, he even ran fingers through his messy curls as he went with Cap and the others for decontamination.

Roy and John were already kneeling by Daphne's longboard reassessing her, when Kelly suddenly sagged in his coworker's grips. "Hey..Hey Chet?!" Cap shouted. Marco and Mike caught him, hastily tightening their grips on Chet's underarms and jacket. "Stoker ease him down.  
Careful. Careful."

Gage shot to his feet. "I was afraid of this, you guys.  
He might've taken a good shot of gas in the lungs. You heard the way his voice was going. Keep his head and chest angled up with something! I'll be right there."

Stoker made a pillow from his coat for Kelly who was still partially awake. Johnny crouched with a penlight checking his nose and throat for burns. "Chet.. Can you hear me, pal? Still breathing ok?"

He was, shallowly.

Kelly blinked under Johnny's light. But alarmingly, he was no longer coughing. Gage saw that he seemed dazed,  
and not really focusing on all the guys bending over him.

Johnny kept a hand on Kelly's chest and he looked up.  
"Cap, we still gotta keep irrigating those eyes and the rest of him despite this. We'll worry about warming him afterwards once he's decontam'd. Right now, he needs to get this ammonia off his skin, and a lot of O2 into his system."

"That covers him. But I gotta ask. Get any on yourself helping him, Gage?" Hank asked Johnny.

"No.."

Roy sighed and said, "I did. My arm's tingling. His head hit me when Johnny dragged him into the squad.  
He must have had some in his hair for a bit before it evaporated."

Cap stood, rapidly motioning for a hose team to string him a brush line for Kelly's wash right where he was. "Washdown, gotcha Gage." he said pointing down at Chet.  
"DeSoto, you're headed for the decontam tent, right now." Hank ordered. "For yours."

"But Cap.." Roy started up.

"No complaints.. Gage can handle treating the woman and Chet just fine with Squad 18's medics until you're done."

"Roy, just go. Kelly's breathing ok for the moment."  
Johnny told him. He glared until Roy disappeared into the canvas emergency tent.

Then Gage bent down to listen to Chet's pulmonary status with a stethoscope as Lopez began to cut away Kelly's clothes for his hose soaking wash.  
"Chet.."Johnny called out leaning down over the shocky fireman's pale face. "Still here? We're gonna haveta wash ya down now. And it's gonna be cold. Not too fun. Also, I need to shift you onto your side to irrigate those eyes some more to be sure we got it all out. We'll get you on some dry O2, so it won't burn your chest so much and breathing will come easier. Just relax, I'm gonna check you out closer to make sure your little tumble didn't crack anything else besides your backside, ok?" he said, smiling, trying to raise Chet's spirits.

But Kelly remained very quiet, his face slack, where he he lay on the ground. He tried to moan but no sound came out of his swelling throat, and he just wheezed instead in a poor attempt to clear his throat.

Johnny looked up as Station Eighteen's paramedics joined them. "Mendelson. Get him on straight 100% O2 by demand valve, non humidified. Force it if he obstructs. Peters, you got his vitals set here? Afterwards continue that eye wash.  
I'm going to go get a new set on the woman and phone us in.."

Johnny knelt by Daphne, relieving the fireman watching her O2 mask intake, and got a BP on her. She was cool to the touch following her hose washing, even under her thick blankets on the long board, and was still out. Johnny was pleased to find her breathing well through her oral airway. Gage looked up a minute later with just the vitals information, for Rampart.

Nearby, Cap and Stoker had already begun streaming a hand hose's scrubbing spray over Kelly's shivering bare skin, while Mendelson kept the demand valve in place over Kelly's nose and mouth so the lung burned, stricken, fireman could breathe in its soothing oxygen flow. Peter's was working on his eyes, irrigating them. Gage noticed Chet no longer resisted that. ::He's going out. Might be better for him that way in the long run. A lower BP will mean less pulmonary swelling. I hope.::

"Fifteen minutes Cap!" Johnny shouted towards them. "Keep it up until then. He's sure to go hypothermic but we'll worry about that once we're sure all the ammonia's off of him."

"You got it pal.." Cap replied, deftly spraying Chet's contaminated clothing away from him and the medics working on him. Then he returned to the washdown, getting Chet's hair thoroughly scoured as well. Mendelson and Peters ignored the fact they were getting partially wet, their concentration on Kelly's care unwavering.

Gage opened the biocom quickly, and snapped the aerial into place. He brought the phone's receiver to his face. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

---------------------

Joe Early had just been by Dixie's desk,  
working on a chart when he noticed the red rescue light flashing in the receiving alcove.  
He tapped her shoulder and the two of them entered the tiny glassed off room.

Joe thumbed the intercom. "Unit calling in please repeat.. " and he turned on the tape recorder near the radio speaker.

##Rampart, this is Squad 5-1.#

"Go ahead 51. I read you loud and clear.." Joe said.

"Rampart, we've two victims of anhydrous ammonia gas, secondarily compounded by possible blunt trauma.  
Victim One, unconscious, a woman aged approximately 27-28 years of age. Victim of an automobile versus semi trailer truck. No apparent gross injuries other than ammonia inhalation. I haven't yet had time to give her a thorough secondary assessment. Vitals, however on her, are stable. Victim Two, a Code I. Fell from a moving firetruck while we were trying to get away from the gas cloud. Expressed marked walking wounded syndrome, now semi comatose with growing moderate respiratory distress. He is on a hundred percent dry O2. Rampart, her hose irrigation is complete. His nearly so."

Joe rubbed his nose while hearing Johnny's report.  
Then he toggled the reply switch. "51. Give me a vitals set on Victim Two."

Johnny caught a sailing notepad, full of information, from Peters. "10-4, Rampart. Victim Two. Pulse 120. BP 92 / 60, Respirations, 24 and wheezy, breathing on his own. Breath sounds show moderate upper tracheal wheezing on the left, clear on the right." Johnny's face fell when he read Peter's other medical finding. "Also,....showing marked guarding of his upper left quadrant abdomen with referring pain up into both shoulders. C-spine and all neuro responses intact."

"51, Apply mast trousers and inflate only the compartments over the lower extremities.  
Any rapid boost in his blood pressure may exacerbate his breathing and compromise his lung function due to those probable pulmonary burns.. Inflate the suit's chambers until his BP is on the low side of normal only. Then start two large bore IV's, 51. Both of D5W, wide open. We'll treat for shock now and treat any resulting pulmonary edema later. Right now, it's more important to keep that internal injury at bay. It may be a ruptured spleen. 51, any indication of head trauma?"

"Negative, Rampart." Johnny replied.

"Good." Joe said. "If he recovers consciousness fully, pain from his seared lungs, may keep him from being able to breathe on his own. Have 2 mg MS IV Push standing ready should he need it.  
The more he moves air on his own, the better off he'll be in the long run. If positive pressure is needed,  
use only enough each vent for half inflation of the lungs. I don't want to collapse them from leakage from those aveolial burns."

Gage sighed in concentration and repeated back his orders. "10-4, ah. 2 milligrams MS IV push as needed. Two IV D5Ws wide open and mast trouser application to low normal BP. Light vents on the demand valve on any respiratory arrest."

Joe said. "Also, guard against shock and begin rewarming measures once his irrigation is complete."

"10-4, Treat for shock and hypothermia following the washdown."

Joe said, "Give me Victim number One's vitals."

Johnny said. "Victim One. Earlier laryngeal spasming.  
Independently resolved on its own, following a return to clear air. Oral airway is in place. She's on sixteen liters of 02, dry. BP 130/102, Respirations shallow and deep alternating, at 20. Pulse 100. Pupils equal and reactive. No response to verbal. Slight to pain on the consciousness level."

"10-4, 51. On Victim One, Keep monitoring for any deterioration in her respiratory status. Stridor, wheezing,  
ineffective lung draws, and then treat the symptoms when they arrive with 2 mg 1:10,000 epinephrine into an IV, 51, of normal saline, TKO.

On both victims, keep them warm at as near normal a body temperature as possible. Make up a burn chart as needed, showing any areas of ammonia exposure,  
it usually takes a few hours after exposure for an ammonia freezing to show on the skin. Include suspected pulmonary involvement and any burns of mucosal membranes, such as in the nose, surrounding the eyes, and involving the throat. Do not cover any burns found. Keep them open, 51."

"10-4, Rampart. Burn charting percentages, and open air for burn protocol." Gage replied. "Rampart ambulance is on scene."

"Ok, 51. Notify me of any negative change in their vitals signs and transport as soon as possible."

"10- 4, Rampart."

Johnny, Mendelson and Peters had just finished starting the three IV's when Roy rushed back over to Johnny's side, his hair wet, with dry night turnout trousers on and a clean T-shirt someone had gotten for him from the engine. "How are they?" he asked.

Gage handed his partner his notes from the biocom call and said. "Chet may have a ruptured spleen on top of his other problems." he said unhappily.  
"I probably didn't help him hauling him by the belt like I did. Doc's got him marked for light vents if he quits breathing on us."

"Don't feel bad, jarring an internal injury was better than us just leaving him behind to be melted to slag by a corrosive cloud, don't you think?"

"I guess. We broke quite a few patient extrication rules today. On both of them."

"We had to." Roy admitted.  
They both turned at Cap's shout. "Gage, we're through. So's Peters." he said, tossing a head at Chet.  
Stoker and Hank began to wash the runoff from Chet off the roadway and onto the grassy margins.

Roy and Marco helped Johnny bundle the chilled Chet rapidly into the mast suit and then very warmly inside a crush of wool run blankets from head to toe. Mendelson said. "He's still holding fine. Pulling his air adequately here." he said, of the demand valve he was still using on Kelly. "Haven't needed to trigger even once yet."

"Good, if you do, go 50% only, all right." Gage told him.

"You got it."

Roy leaned down to Chet's ear. "Chet.. Can you hear me? "

Chet's eyes stayed closed for they were swelling from all the water that had streamed over them from Peters irrigations but his thick eyebrows rose slightly at the sound of his name.

Roy smiled. "We're almost on the way to Rampart where they'll take really good care of that belly pain. Just keep breathing regular on the 02 like you are.  
If you have trouble, we've been authorized MS if the pain gets too great, just let us know."

Chet lifted his eyebrows once more before he gave into his involuntary shivering from being water chilled under the hose. "hhhhhmmphhh." he said incoherently.

That worried Johnny.

But then a touch of Chet cussedness presented itself a few minutes later. Kelly all but broke Roy's hand, hanging on to it, for reassurance.

---------------------

John and Mendelson rode with Chet and Daphne in the ambulance while Roy drove behind the Mayfield. Johnny's hands were full keeping them both on their flowing oxygen, double handed, while Mendelson looked them over inch by inch for burns for the charts. Chet had several. The woman,  
none.

Dr. Early met them at the entrance doors.

Dixie was there, too.

She pointed and said......

--------------------------------------

Photo : Chet down on the ground, hurt.  
Close up.

Photo: Mike Stoker and Captain Stanley with a hand held hose in glove.

Photo: Johnny in an ambulance with two victims.  
Holding two oxygen masks on both.

*  
From : "Roxy Dee" Subject : Patch Job~~ Date : Tue, 03 Dec 2002 15:25:14 +0000

John and Mendelson rode with Chet and Daphne in the ambulance while Roy drove behind the Mayfield. Johnny's hands were full keeping them both on their flowing oxygen, double handed, while Mendelson looked them over inch by inch for burns for the charts. Chet had several. The woman,  
none.

Dr. Early and Dr. Brackett both met them at the entrance doors.

Dixie was there, too.

She pointed and said......

"Treatment Three for the woman. Let's put your coworker in Two, Johnny. Mendelson,  
stay with her long enough to give Dr. Morton your report, all right? Joe Early's taking your friend here."

Gage nodded gratefully to Dix for bending the rules and allowing him to remain by Chet's side.

Roy took full advantage of the favor, too,  
slipping inside the treatment room doors with his walkie talkie on the heels of orderlies arriving with an xray machine. Another set of them came from nowhere with a standby bird respirator.  
::That Dr. Early's on the ball. Let's hope Chet doesn't need it.::

Dixie drew the line on the rest of the gang, still in heavy overcoats smelling faintly of ammonia stench, keeping them lined up along the wall outside the treatment room. Gage said, "Cap, I'm all eyes. You'll know faster than Brackett will about what's going on with Kelly." Johnny said, lifting his HT. "You called the squad and engine out of service for a bit?"

Cap's grin and smiles from the rest of them lifted Johnny's own anxiety a whole heap, "H*ll yeah. Using the close call to get ourselves all checked out by the docs. We might be burned without even knowing it, don't you know." he winked. "Tell Kelly his family already knows and is on the way if he wakes up."

"I will.." Gage said.

The Treatment room doors closed in on Cap's face, making him wish for the dozenth time that its wooden surface had a window to see through.  
He gave the red "do not enter" sign a light smack in frustration.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Dr. Early had a full respiratory therapy team there to assess Kelly's current pulmonary status.  
"Johnny, did Chet need the MS in route?" he said,  
taking his otoscope and using it to look for burns inside Chet's nose and mouth. He shifted to his penlight to examine the membranes in Chet's eyes.

"Yeah. About five minutes ago, just before we pulled up here. Look doc, he's really out now.  
His pressure's barely holding low normal with that suit on." Gage said, helping the nurses and techs shift Chet from the portable EKG to the hospital one and to trade his D tanked O2, for the wall port source. "I decided not to monkey with an oral airway with that wheezing going on."

"Ok, Johnny, we'll take it from here." Joe said.  
Then Dr. Early noticed the usually talkative Gage growing as quiet as Roy usually was, and then he saw the matching looks of worry blooming suddenly on their faces at the idea of being driven out of the room. He reconsidered, saying.  
"Roy, why don't you check his feet for pedal pulses so we can rule out descending aorta involvement..And Johnny, tell me exactly, what burns you found on him and where.."  
Then he turned to Dix, while Carol took a set of vitals on Chet. "Dixie, page Dr. Brackett for me would you? He's with his father. And call for a surgical team. We're going to have to do an exploratory on Kelly's abdomen to see what's going on. Carol, get a warming blanket will you?  
Seems his core temp's still a little low."

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Twenty five long minutes later, Johnny and Roy left the treatment room reluctantly, leaving the pre-op team scurrying to prepare Chet for his emergency surgery.

Cap and the gang immediately surrounded them.  
Every one of them had their helmets off and respectfully in their gloves. "How is he?" Hank asked. "Did we get that wash in Kelly's eyes in time?"

Johnny said. "His pupillary responses are still reactive, Cap. That's a good sign doc says.  
That means his eyes aren't burned that badly."

Roy added. "Chet's going to be wheeled into surgery any minute now. Dr. Early seems to think his spleen isn't that badly torn. I think his abdominal guarding was going away."

"Can we see him?" Marco asked.

Right then, Dixie McCall stepped through the doors with a tray full of blood samples for the lab and handed it off to a passing nurse. "Take these to the lab, stat." she said.

She sealed the door after herself before the gang could peek through. "Now boys, you know we're doing everything we can for your friend. Just give him and the doctors some space so they can do their work, all right? Chet's vitals are stabilized well enough for his surgery now so relax.."

Sighs of relief erupted from all the men towering above her diminutive stature. Then she pegged them all with an appraising stare. "All right, who needs to be seen about ammonia exposure..?"

Roy raised his hand. "I do. I took some on the arm."

"This way.." Dix said to him. She smiled when the whole station crew followed, crowded behind Roy into treatment four, on the hope of wringing more reassurance out of her about Chet. She patted the bed,  
"Hop up, Roy. Kel's here and he'll take a look at you while Chet's being readied for surgery."

"Dr. Brackett's here?" Roy said, "I thought he had the night off? You know, since...." he broke off, he even paused in pulling off his T- shirt for his coming exam when he realized he might be on confidential ground.

"Since Kel acted like a belligerent school kid and drove his fist through a deck door window? Pretty amazing,  
I know. But what son isn't prone to his father pushing some sensitive buttons, hmm?" she quipped.

"Is Dr. Brackett all right?" Johnny asked, concerned for the senior physician. "We were pretty shocked when Mendelson told us what happened on the way in with Chet and the woman."

"He's sore, with thirty two stitches, but at least, he's got a reason to smile tonight.  
Brent Brackett and Kel have decided to mend some fences even after THIS long.. " she said with intense secrecy. "Kel told me the news only an hour ago from the restaurant." she whispered. Then aloud. "Quit cowering, all. You fellas are all family so, of course, I'll tell you everything about this whole silly complex of Kel's. And I'll tell you more too. Just as soon as I understand enough of it to voice into legible words..I'm a woman, remember, and it usually takes me a while to fathom out father/son feuds. Especially when the two involved are good friends of mine." she grunted, partially laughing, while taking a BP on Roy. She finished and wrote it down.  
"Any dizziness, Roy? Odd things going on with your eyes?"

"No. I'm fine. The hosing wash I took in the decontam tent took care of all that."

Dix slid over a blood draw tray and tied on a tourniquet to obtain samples from him. "Yeah? Well, Dr. Brackett is still giving you his own once over just to be on the safe side. I'm just the front line of defenses.."

"But..."

"Don't worry. Kel'll tear right out of here to scrub up the second Chet's fully prepped and anesthetized."

They piped down when Kel came through the treatment doors not alone, but accompanied by Brent Brackett,  
the tyrannical father figure they had heard so much about through Mendelson in the hall.

Dix cast significant eyes at Johnny and Roy and the rest of the gang in the room and angled her head to show her statement about their making amends was really quite true. She started heading for the door.

Kel called out after her. "Say Dix, did you get Roy's blood samples for the l--?" he broke off when Dix held up the three vials already clasped in her long fingernails without turning around. "oh... ok."

Dixie winked at the gang on her way out.

Dr. Brackett noticed the unusual presence of Roy's coworkers in the room, trying to blend in with the glass medicine cabinets. "Roy, you've quite an entourage of fans here. Didn't know you were so popular. Thought Gage here was the star in your outfit."

"They're worried about Chet, doc." DeSoto said without smiling.

"Nothing to worry about." Brent Brackett spoke up instantly.

Dr. Brackett stiffened at his father's intrusion into his patient / doctor territory, but the firemen all saw Kel relax a bit when Kel realized Brent was actually bringing his own skills to bear accordingly as was his right as senior attending house psychologist.

"We just left him and his chest Xray, young man.  
Looking good. Both of them." Brent told Roy and the rest of the firemen in the room, hanging on to his white coat's lapels.

Johnny's eye rose skeptically, making Kel smirk in mild amusement. "What Dr. Brackett is saying, is true. Chet's chest Xray is showing little edema and a huge reduction in swelling. Looks like the effect of the lungful of ammonia he took in was only temporary, made that way, by your prompt fast action with administering unmoistened O2. And even his abdominal plates look good. I saw only minor shadowing over his spleen. The mast trousers did their job. All bleeding's under control. The surgery I'm doing on him should just be a patch job, gentlemen.."

"That's a relief.." Mike Stoker sighed. "It wasn't fun seeing Chet fly off my engine like he did."

"Yeah, Chet's no superman.." Gage chuckled.

They hushed down when Kel Brackett finished checking Roy out. DeSoto showed him the place where the ammonia had soaked into his arm.  
Only a little reddening was showing up under the light. "Mild first degree freeze burn. I don't think any had time to get into your blood stream, Roy.  
Your lab tests will reveal that for sure in a few minutes. Get dressed. We're through. Just be sure to call me on return of symptoms, all right?"

"You got it doc.." he said.

Kel hurried out the door to head for surgery.

Brent was left in the room with the gang and he handed Roy his T- shirt back. "Is he a good man to work with, Kel Brackett? Afraid to admit, that I've really just started watching him work, only tonight."

Roy answered without hesitation, but subconsciously straightening from where he sat on the treatment gurney. "One of the best, sir. He singlehandedly saved the Paramedic Program from being legislated out of operation during its earliest days and he trained not only me, personally, but my partner Johnny here, as well, to function as efficient intermediary caregivers in just about any prehospital setting. To date, in only six years, Dr. Brackett created twenty paramedic teams embedded in just as many firehouses across L. A. County. Entirely due to his own hard work and perserverence."

Brent laughed openly and clasped Roy's hand warmly. "My g*d. Do we need an introduction my boy! Seems Dixie's really painted me out to be the worst ogre of a two ogre pair now hasn't she?  
You're practically foaming at the mouth singing praises about my boy, son. Relax....True, I'm just like Kel in temperment, but I'm mellower by miles.. A trait of all this gray hair, I suppose. Listen..I really appreciate your devotion to my son's work.. Sounds very genuine if I do say so myself.  
Mr...mr..."

"DeSoto.." Roy said, returning the handshake.

Johnny's nervous smile fell off into a sideways grin of relief.

"DeSoto. A solid French name. And the rest of you?"

A round of introductions came after that from Cap right on down to Stoker.

-------------------------------------------------

They ended up in the coffee lounge, away from public view, so the firefighting gear wouldn't alarm hospital visitors. Brent Brackett learned a whole lot about his son from Dixie and the Station 51 crew over the next hour while they waited for word about Chet's surgery results.

Brent finally couldn't stand their fretting. He rose,  
abandoning his coffee mug. "All right. I've monopolized your good graces enough folks, digging for dirt or gold concerning my very grown son. Tell you what.. I've got a lot of clout around here as house psych. Think I'll peek in on how Kel's handling your man, captain." he said.

Cap looked startled. "You don't have to do that. We know Chet's probably fine, doctor. Just a patch surgery job, Kel said."

"Be that as it may. I'll be killing two birds with one stone by making the round. I'll get your answer for you that much sooner and I'll be able to see my son in action at the same time. Fair trade off."

"Just stay in the observation room.." Dix chided.

"Where would the fun be in that, Miss McCall? I want to see how my son works under pressure.."

Dix scowled, but it was tempered with amusement.  
"Family peer pressure's dirty pool, doctor, and you know it.."

"Kel can handle it. After all, he's handled this whole paramedic thing and all these men behind it for six years? How's one more doctor hanging over his shoulder gonna matter?"

"Plenty..you'll both be wearing the same fake smile." Dix said without a shred of humility, as Brent made his goodbyes to the stationhouse gang and accepted their profuse thanks for doing what he was about to do.

Captain Stanley leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head and wondered when the sparks were going to ignite into a big fire between the Brackett docs once again. He hope Brent's little appearance in Kel's operating ward wouldn't prove to be a new catalyst for another fiery father son feud.

Dixie didn't appear overtly alarmed. She simply reached for the nearly empty coffee pot on the table contentedly and poured herself a cup.

That cup went right into Joe Early's hands when the silver haired doctor showed up into the nurses lounge.

Gage said, "How's he doing?" Johnny asked Joe immediately before the man had taken even one sip.

"Thanks Dix. I need the pick me up. Fine Johnny.. His vitals are still stable. Kel's almost through with the exploratory. We had no problems intubating Chet after he was put under, if that's what you want to know. His air passages were very clear Johnny."

Gage nodded, sorry that he was so transparent.  
"Thanks doc. His earlier wheezing was kinda scary."

"That's the funny thing about anhydrous ammonia.  
It either really really does a number on you, or it let's you off lightly after a really good scare. In Chet's case, he got the all bluff end of the spectrum. There's no retinal damage or even corneal abrasions. No chance of that blinding you guys were all fearing during the rescue.."

Mike Stoker said. "Good. Last thing we need is Chet Kelly banging around the station with a sight cane while he cooks fifteen alarm chow for us every night."

The whole gang laughed at the image.

Joe even chortled.

Roy asked about their other victims from the accident.  
"How about the woman we brought in, Daphne? She doing ok?"

"Same story as Chet, minus the internal injuries.  
She'll stay the night and'll be discharged in the morning if her lungs stay clear. Nice fast action Johnny on ending that laryngeal spasm then." Dr. Early said.

"I didn't do anything. The hose team got a good pocket of air around us and she resolved on her own."

"Lucky. She could have been that close to triggering a tracheal collapse reflex when her larynx cramped like that." Joe said, holding out miniscule fingers in the air.

"I know.. you could have knocked me over with a stick when she started breathing again after I got a good lifting grip on her throat." Gage admitted.  
"I remembered at the last second that gas inhalation reacted the same way as a liquid water drowning with spasming like that. I almost forgot how effective the technique was."

"Who taught you that move?" Cap asked. "That was pretty slick considering there wasn't much else you could do for her, wearing your SCBA mask like that.."

"Dr. Brackett."  
"Dr. Brackett." Roy and John both replied in stereo.

Dr. Early grinned. "I take it Brent was in here a while ago."

"How'd you know?" Dix said in surprise.

"They said their answer too fast, Dix, dead give away."

"Oh.."

Johnny asked, "Doc, can you tell us about Mr. Fajou?"

Joe rubbed his hand, not remembering their patient.

"The old man from the creepy mansion who cooked ginger bread cookies for the kids at the studio." Roy added.

"Oh, oh, oh, now I know who you're talking about.  
He did have septicemia, a mild case and we've gotten his asthma outbreak under control. He's resting comfortably on antibiotics and inhalants."

"Will he be going home soon? You see, we all wanna help him out some and do some work around the house for him before he gets back." Mike Stoker told him.

"Boys... aren't you the sweethearts. What knights in shining armor.." Dix cooed. "Mr. Fajou's gonna love your surprise. I'll be sure to give you a call the moment I find out when he'll get discharged all right?"

They all nodded.

Roy piped up. "Dix, how's the other car driver? The one I looked at briefly before handling our cases?"

"Oh, the driver with the broken arm? Fine. Peters rode in with him in another rig. He didn't take many fumes at all and I heard his arm was easily set and put into a cast. He'll most likely be discharged in a couple of hours, after his cast dries."

"That's good."

A loud stomach rumble permeated the air. From Marco.. "Lo ciento.. All that running made me hungry."

"Time for a pizza run.. My treat.." Joe said.  
He got on the phone to dietary, shushing them all into silence, before the gang's active protests stopped him. "Consider it part of your followup ammonia gas treatment.." he quipped.

"Thanks doc, we owe you one.." Cap grinned.

Cap and the others literally inhaled the four pizzas while Dix and Joe merely nibbled.

The pizza pans had been tossed onto the dish cart for only about thirty seconds when the wait for news about Chet grew once again intolerable.

All eyes started watching the clock and the house phone for word from Dr. Brent Brackett's sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

---------------------------------------------------------

Photo: Chet in a treatment room, unconscious.

Photo: Joe checking out Roy in a treatment room.

Photo : Dr. Brackett looking at your pupils with a penlight.

Photo : Dr. Brent Brackett looking at Chet's chest X-ray.

Photo : John, Joe and Dixie in a treatment room.

*  
From : "patti keiper" Subject :[EmergencyTheaterLive] Of Mice and Men.. Date : Thu, 12 Dec 2002 21:31:07 +0000 Kel Brackett didn't even look up from his surgical field when he felt a presence at his shoulder. He knew right away that it was his father in the blue scrubs near him. "Doctor Brackett." he said simply and as neutrally as he could. Kel could feel his cheek twitching under his mask. But inwardly, he told himself once again in his thoughts.::I did ask dad to see what I do for my living.:: he sighed. ::I just have to get used to him taking advantage of the invite, hook line and sinker.::

Brent Brackett knew how to observe in a sterile ward. His ungloved hands were behind his back and he stayed behind Kel at half an arm's length. "Before you say anything.. I...only stepped in here solely on behalf of the boys who work with this young fellow. They're milking this anhydrous exposure checkup requirement to the max and they're all still here, crowded in the nurse's break lounge. Joe Early had to feed them because they wouldn't even leave the staff paging phone unattended long enough to grab a tray from the cafeteria, fearful they'd miss hearing from you."

Dr. Brackett wasn't beneath trying to shock his father. "The resection on the mediastinal aspect of Chet's spleen is a straight forward repair job. See for yourself.." and he intentionally sprayed his running tube of sterile saline wash over the area, not caring that a part of its red tinged spray splashed up, catching his father's mask and his scrub top liberally as it plumed upwards when the older man didn't anticipate stepping back at the sound like all the others around the table did.

Brent flinched but then blinked, wondering if the dousing had been a ploy to drive him away, but he was already more than determined to remain. He cleared his throat and said loud enough for all in the room to hear.  
"Oops. Good thing gore has never bothered me. Please, show me what you've done so far, doctor. I'm all eyes." he said, hiding any trace of negative emotion from his voice. Brent surprised himself when his own temper, didn't flare up at all.

Nonetheless, a well informed, Dixie enlightened tech hastily suctioned away the water for Kel from Chet's abdominal cavity almost a little too fast. Kel had to hold Chet's spleen down with his forceps so it wouldn't plug her tube's port as she used it.

Kel glanced at her reflexively but the woman's face stayed looking down at what she was doing.  
For her benefit, Kel said. "Sorry about that, I'll slow down." Dr. Brackett half wondered if there was anyone on the staff who didn't know about the Brackett family friction. And he quickly began feeling like an *ss for what he had done. ::Dixie's thorough on the grapevine, I'll give her that. About as thorough as she is running triage. Everyone around us is walking on egg shells. That's gonna change..:: he vowed. ::Now:  
he said. He was glad for his mask when it hid the rising red of embarrassment in his face.  
He decided to show the entire room that Dixie's tale about them was now completely baseless.  
"Dad, look here. This is where Chet's fall impacted against his spleen. See that mark? You can almost make out lettering from the regulator valve he fell on top of. He must have been wearing a SCBA bottle when he fell and that metal piece on the harness was what cut him internally."

"Hmm. I see it." Brent mumbled.  
"Looks sort of like the artifacts that show up on chest x-rays sometimes from drivers impacting their sternums against the steering wheel column?"  
Brent asked. Then he chuckled. "Saw a Chrysler logo chevron once on one from a patient of mine. That young man now hangs that x-ray on his wall." He sighed accepting a cotton wad from a nurse gratefully so he could mop up his gory face. "He now shows it to all of his dates and tells them it's his secret tattoo that can even be felt, for a kiss."

"Yeah? Well Chet won't be left with any such girl magnet.  
This tissue isn't bone. It will heal cleanly in a few days, leaving no traces. Chet's external skin bruising will stay longer than this laceration."  
Kel said, snipping off his last internal suture stitch.  
"There," he said, "Good as new.." Kel dabbed the spleen with gauze until Brent could see his work.

"Bowels clear? And the intestines?" Brent asked,  
peering closer.

"Completely. All of Chet's internal bleeding came from this site alone. The spleen's the body's repository for whole blood so it's not surprising this tiny tear hemorrhaged so much. The anti shock trousers did a good job stopping it as you saw on the films."

"So I did.." Brent said. "So, what should I tell the fireboys?"

"That it was a piece of cake, doctor. Chet's no longer in jeopardy."

"Will do." and he nodded and winked to the nervous tech across from them. Then he turned to his surgeon son. "Coffee after you close?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Kel said. "Then I'll leave you all to your work.." Brent Brackett leaned down to Chet. He saw the young fireman's eyes had been ointmented and protectively taped shut and he carefully stayed away from where the anesthesiologist was listening to Chet's breathing through the endotrach tube with a stethoscope. He spoke firmly into Kelly's ear. "Looks good son. Almost done. Wake up fast cause your friends are still hanging around to see you. My guess is that it won't be good for them later if your dispatcher has to order them back to the stationhouse. Oh, and Joe Early just told me they've saved some pizza for you." he said, patting Chet's sheet covered shoulder. "So hurry up son, before someone gets hungry again and it disappears."

Everyone around the table laughed when Chet's stomach took that moment to start growling.  
It was very audible as it and the organs around it were still exposed to the air.

"That got through my anesthesia?" the man at Chet's head joked. "Usually I have people's plumbing napping soundly during splenectomies."

"Yeah well this fireman's appetite is legendary, Dale. Don't feel bad. I hear Johnny complaining about his donut stealing prowess all the time." Kel shook his head ruefully, amused. "Dad, I know of a better way to wake him up if you're interested. Grab Johnny's walkie talkie. I'll have Doctor Riley here on the respirator play him his station's alarm tones after he's extubated." he joked.

"Aren't you the creative one.." Brent teased back,  
just before the surgical bay doors closed between them. "But I think I'll pass on that. Positive reinforcement works so much better than shock tactics.." he replied.

Brackett immediately regretted his little stunt with splashing the sterile wash. Internally, Kel accepted Brent's hidden admonishment. ::I deserved that. Now why am I still acting like such a pig? This unspoken feud between us is being addressed. What am I afraid of?::

Inside his head, another voice of conscience spoke up. ::Losing your mother because of it.::

-----------------------------------------------

Brent Brackett was still wet from his shower when he dialed the nurses lounge.

The phone rang, making the whole gang jump in their seats as way too much coffee in their systems made them overreact.

Then the babble in the room ceased when no one moved to intercept the phone. Marco, Stoker, Johnny and Roy all hushed up in tension, like frightened rabbits when it was the red phone and not the black one that was paging them.

Dixie MacCall answered the phone. "Nurse's lounge,  
Dixie McCall speaking.."

Brent greeted her. "Miss McCall? Put Mr. Kelly's captain on. I wanna speak with him directly. And before you ask. All things went well. Both my visit and with Chester's exploratory. His spleen's intact. Didn't need to be removed. So hop to,  
woman."

Dixie hid her smile even from her eyes as she handed over the phone. "Captain Stanley.  
You're needed here."

"Oh, boy. Hope it's not McConike for playing hooky.  
He never goes through public HT channels when he's really mad at somebody." Cap said, leaping off the lounge couch and wiping nervous palms on his turnout.

Dixie couldn't help herself. She said, "Relax captain.  
It's not him. Remember, I'm your solid alibi here for all of you staying at Rampart even if the chief does call.  
I already have my speech planned out."  
and she broke into a reasoning voice, sugar coated with Dixie no nonsense. "I'll just say, 'Chief, It's a little busy today, and that's why it's taking longer than usual to examine all of your men. ' when the time comes."

"Glad somebody's prepared for that call."  
Hank sighed, and rose, taking the phone from her.  
"This is Fireman Stanley." with more than just slight apprehension.

Brent grinned."Go home, captain. Chet's already being sent to recovery. His spleen was only holed, not grossly ruptured. It was all just minor surgery."

Cap excitedly spread the good news to his listeners out of ear shot.

Brent heard the cheers and had to take the phone away from his ear for a moment but then he shouted before Hank hung up again. "Captain Stanley, one thing.  
Hand that to-go box full of pizza to Dixie for her to take to his room or Chet's gonna personally kill ya."

"Huh?"

"Subliminal suggestion, Captain. Works everytime.  
I told him it would be waiting."

"Gotcha, doc. She heard ya. Thanks Dr. Brackett, for everything. We really appreciate it."

"That's why I'm a psychologist, son. Take care." and Brent hung up the phone.

-----------------------------------------------------

Marjorie Kelly sat next to Chet's bed as she waited for him to awaken from his latest anesthesia slumber. Chet's eyes were unbandaged and he had already blinked away the antibiotic ointment in them as the scent of his sister's musky perfume woke him the rest of the way to consciousness.

A rodent's fuzzy face, and whiskers, met his gaze when focus returned from the middle of his chest. "Ahhh!!!" he shouted in fright and immediately winced when his surgical staples bit back in protest.  
"OoooooOOOOooo, Marjorie.. Did you have to bring Herbert here? Animals aren't allow in at Rampart.."

"Who says? No one saw me. Besides, what better way to make you feel better than to bring you,.. your best bud."

Chet watched Herbert crawl further up his chest to land curious paws on his chin as he sniffed his master's morning anesthesia breath. Then he made for an immediate beeline for the open pizza carton lying across Chet's legs. "Oh, no you don't. That's mine."  
and Chet pinned Herbert's tail long enough to nestle him into a palm to caress the brown mouse's head and kiss his ears. Then he double taked.  
"Wait a minute. Why did I say that?"

Marjorie laughed. "Dixie left this here an hour ago. She said a doctor in surgery told you some would be waiting for you when you awakened. Wah la.."  
she said, with a flourish at the pizza half. "It's still warm. I just reheated it up again."

Chet watched as Herbert pushed out of his hand with a frustrated squeak until he gained his freedom and he beelined once more for the pizza across the sheets. Marjorie intercepted Chet's correcting grab with a grip of her own. "Oh, come off it, Bro. Let him be. You share your cereal with Herbie all the time. I'll just keep an eye out and cut off all the parts he drools on. No problem. I'll defend your half."

"Marj we're gonna have problems if they catch you in here with him. And I'm not eating. I can't. I mean whoever heard of someone right out of abdominal surgery being allowed to eat?"

"You had a repair, Chester. And that's a whole different ball game. Only difference between getting basic stitches and what you had done, is the fact that yours are on three layers with two rows inside, and those are just on your spleen and along your abdominal lining. Nice stapling job topside. Saw them when Dixie changed your dressing."

"That sounds so appetizing Sis. Here, you eat this." he said, plunking pizza carton, Herbie and all on the bed in between them. Herbert went right on gnawing at a pepperoni. Despite his feigned disgust, Chet's stomach growled.

Marjorie laughed and handed him a pizza slice with no Herbert pawprints on it and a paper towel. "Uh huh.. tell me another lie big brother and I'll restart our practical joke war despite our vow to never do them whenever one of us is sick or hurt."

"Ha ha. Very funny." But Chet began to eat, fussing over his IV. "I wonder why I'm not puking my guts out. I did last time I had surgery. Remember my broken shoulder from that cave in rescue? Needed surgical reduction for that one."

"I remember, I was the one who had to listen to you whining for two weeks while ya mended." Marj laughed through her freckles and curly bangs. "You aren't nauseated because Dr. Brackett told you not to be."

"Kel Brackett was here?"

"No, the other one."

"What other one?" Chet said, "Hand me that water pitcher will you. I'm thirsty enough to drink my IV."

Marj slid the water jug over and a glass, but not before she poured some into a toothpaste tube cap as a water dish for Herbert the mouse.

"Kelly Brackett's dad is a psychologist. The gang wanted to hear how you were faring in surgery so Brent Brackett went in to find out. Then Brent told us all on the phone that he had suggested a few things to you while you were under to make your recovery happen faster. Oh, Chester, did you know you were almost in a coma when they brought you in? You scared the living snot out of Johnny. "

"I did?"

"Yeah. I'd never seen him so quiet and focused until we got the news your injuries were only appearing to be more than minor. Roy told me Gage wouldn't leave your side at all while you were still having trouble breathing. Even after you were at Rampart with two doctors working on you."

"I remember hearing Cap's joke about the rain,  
and then I remember getting very cold. Dreamed I was drowning."

"You weren't drowning Chester. They decontaminated you with a water hose on scene and Mendelson had you firmly on a demand valve so no water got in. Geez Louise, even I know how dangerous liquid ammonia is on the skin. Lucky you didn't get much more than a whiff in your lungs or I'd be leaving my rubber chickens on your coffin instead of in your sh--.. Never mind."she broke off.

Chet's eyes narrowed as he played with a now fat, pizza filled, burping Herbert, making jungle gyms out of his fingers for the mouse. He finally spoke with long practice at a conversation he had shared with Marj many many times before in the past.  
"They gotta be in my shoes, Sis, since I'm not wearing any shorts on account of these lovely staples I've got under my sheets here. Ok, fess up. Which shoes?"

Marjorie was pinned, fairly. "Ok, I had the guys take back a set of my top end RC's, you know the ones that spray baby powder out the moment they're moved, to rig into your locker shoes for you to find when you got back, is that such a crime?"

"The guys were here?!" Chet said mortified.

"Yeah, so? What's the big deal? They were in,  
they were out. Guess they came so Roy and Johnny could see with their own paramedic eyes that you were truly out of hot water. They even reassured themselves further by taking a vitals set on ya for the nurses chart while you were sleeping."

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal?! Sis, tell me they didn't see Herbert here."

Marjorie was a mouse. But Herbert squeaked in betrayal. He wasn't a good liar at all.

"Marj!!" Chet complained, and Herbert leaped into Marjorie's plaid shirt pocket in fear at Chet's thundering protest. Kelly immediately gripped his sheet covered staples. "Ow...WWWW...www .  
G*d D*mn it.. ..Ow.. ..Why me?"

"Hush, That's Captain Stanley's line. Or at least, I think it is from what you've told me about him." Marj admonished.  
"Dix told me if you're gonna cough, shout or sneeze,  
to hug a pillow before you do so. It'll hurt less."  
She said, smacking his face with one, before gently setting it on his stomach.

"Yeah? It'll hurt more later on when I get better and back to duty and have to face the guys finding out I found Herbert again and kept him as a pet.. I'll never hear the end of it!"

"So? We'll just...deflect them with another Phantom Strikes war."

"Won't work, they're on to me." Chet complained.  
"Oh Marj. Why'd ya have ta bring Herbert to see me today of all days?"

"He knew something was up." she said defensely as only a younger sister could. "Squeaked something awful in his Habitrail maze about the same time as your accident. That's how I knew to call in and ...when .  
I found out that you were really down on the ground out there." and Marjorie sniffled and Chet saw sudden bright full tears fill his sister's amber eyes.

"Come here, little Sis.." Chet said, and he hugged Marj with a grin. "Quit it. I must really be fine if I'm not on an EKG and no doctors or nurses are in sight. Does Gramps and my little brother know about all this?"

"Yes, Gramps and Brendon send their best, Chester.." she sighed into his hair. "Wouldn't be surprised if a bouquet of flowers wrapped in antique barbed wire gets sent in this afternoon to your room personally."

"Why didn't you tell them that they didn't have to go through the trouble?"

"Because they're just as stubborn as anyone else in our family Chester when it comes to reaching out. And you and I both know that it's a terribly long distance still keeping us apart.  
Might as well be light years between California and Wyoming. Just take the flowers when they come with good grace."

Chet released her and Marj handed them both tissues from the bed table. Herbert poked his head out of Marj's shirt pocket at the scent of tears and squeaked a question.

Chet patted his chest and the mouse happily ran to his chin again to nibble and cuddle in his moustache, like a dog rubbing himself on a couch after a bath. "Thanks Marj. I feel better already. I'm only dreading what the guys will do to me after I get back to work now they know I rescued Herbert from the untamed city wilds.  
I was chosen to be the station's.." he covered Herbert's ears with two fingers. ".. exterminator."

"Oh, poo.. " Marj sighed with a mischievous grin.  
"Fodder for the fires, my fraternal fellow prankster. It will give us an excuse to come up with more devious jokes to play on your friend Johnny Gage, now wouldn't it?"

"Hmmm.." Chet said. He closed his eyes, and started chewing pizza while they planned.

It was just a few minutes later.  
Outside the room, a nurse was walking by Chet's hospital room. She overheard a single sentence.  
"And Herbert, if you so much as squeak a word of this prank to anyone, I'll trade Chester Bartholomew the puppy for a cat and move you into the station!"

SQuuueeAAakKKKKK!

The nurse, thinking she was hearing things, moved on when a woman's laughter covered up the odd animal noise she had thought she heard but finally dismissed as only imagined. ::I gotta cut out on drinking all of that coffee..:: she promised herself. ::Starting tomorrow:

Photo : Chet in a T shirt, sleeping on a bed.

Photo : Cap, Johnny and Roy in T- shirts watching Chet sleep.

Photo: Chet looking caught.

Photo: Herbert the mouse in someone's hands.

Photo : Marjorie and Brendon Kelly, Chet's little brother and sister.

*  
From : "SM Fortis" Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] Hello? Date : Thu, 12 Dec 2002 23:15:18 -0600 Offstory-

Pictures reproduced with permission from:

Tigger s Emergency Stuff http://exit3./~ffaller/emergency/

Slide Show Central .com/slide/

Back In Story-

Silently cursing himself as he entered the elevator,  
Kel punched the button for the ground floor. What was he thinking when he invited his father to spend time with him at work? Did he possess a bizarre need to validate his sense of self-  
worth? Was he trying to dazzle him with his diagnostic and surgical abilities? After all these years, did Brent Brackett s opinion still matter?

Upon reaching his destination, Kel approached his office with grim determination. With greater force than was necessary, he flung the door open.  
Brent sat in one of the leather-upholstered chairs in front of the imposing desk. Pasting a smile on his face, Kel addressed his father.

Hey, Dad. Are you ready to head to the Doctor's Lounge?

Brent shrugged his shoulders. In a minute. I thought we could talk first.

The younger Brackett nervously laughed. You sound like a typical shrink. You guys always want to talk.

Spoken like a true surgeon. Always wanting to plunge right into things.

Dad

It s okay, Brent said. Obviously we each have our own talents.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Feeling like a world-class jerk for his behavior earlier, Kel cleared his throat. Dad, I m sorry for that little stunt in the OR. It was immature and uncalled for. You just caught me off guard,  
that s all.

I know. But when you invited me to watch you work, you didn t plan on me ambushing you either.

I did assume it would be under more controlled circumstances, Kel admitted.

Leaning back in his chair, Brent said, I had an opportunity to speak with a couple of your biggest fans this evening.

Oh?

The paramedics that work with the firefighter you operated on. I believe their names were Roy and Johnny?

Kel smiled broadly. They were one of the first teams I trained. I wasn t a huge supporter of the program initially. Oh, to be honest, I was vehemently against it. I thought it was dangerous and essentially amounted to practicing medicine without a license. But eventually I came around and became one of the program s staunchest defenders.  
We cleared some substantial legislative hurdles and funding crises, and now I can t imagine how we managed pre-hospital care without our paramedics.

They were quite effusive in their praise, Brent commented. You certainly have earned their respect. You re more than a mentor to these men.

Suddenly embarrassed, Kel joked, Well, perhaps they may not feel so charitable when it s time for their annual performance evaluations.

Seriously, Kel. That says a great deal about your character. I would be immensely flattered if someone thought that highly of me.

But Dad, you re well respected in your field

It s not the same, Brent lamented. So what if I ve published extensively? Other than impressing a handful of snobbish colleagues and adding a few lines to my Curriculum Vitae,  
I haven t accomplished anything of lasting significance.

Kel rubbed his temple. First there was the strange confession in the restaurant, and now there was a melancholy tone to his father s last remark. This was proving to be an interesting evening.

Staring at the carefully arranged bookcase, Brent continued. Based on the hospital grapevine, I expected you to be arrogant and overbearing, and thought your employees would cower in your presence.  
Instead, I discovered you re merely passionate about your life s calling. In retrospect, I can see your career choice wasn t an act of parental defiance. This is what you were meant to do.

I can t imagine doing anything else, Dad. I feel complete here.

Yes, I can see that now.

Resting his elbows on his desk, Kel asked, Dad?  
Don t you think we need to forgive ourselves too?

Brent raised a questioning eyebrow. What?

Don t get me wrong. Forgiving each other is a significant step in the right direction in putting our relationship back on track, but it isn t going to help if we re consumed with guilt over past offenses.

The elder Brackett buried his face in his hands.  
That s easier said than done. You don t have a constant reminder of your mistakes.

I don t understand, Kel said.

Your mother isn t the same person anymore.  
She blames me for tearing her family apart.  
Scarcely a day goes by that I m not reminded of my failures as a father. You have no idea what it s like to go home every day, knowing your presence is barely tolerated.

So when you moved to Los Angeles

I was not only trying to reestablish communi-  
cation with you, I was trying to save my marriage, Brent finished.

Wow, Kel exclaimed. I had no idea. Mom always sounds okay when I talk to her.

Of course, she would, Brent snorted.  
You re her precious baby, even if you are forty-two years old. She still wants to protect you from all of the unpleasant things in life.

Oh, man. I really messed up, didn t I? I must have broken her heart when I left home.

She was pretty upset with both of us, Brent pointedly added. You re not entirely at fault.

Kel was furious with himself. He was so anxious to escape his domineering father, he never considered the effect his departure would have on this mother. During telephone conversations,  
she always sounded so cheerful. Now it was apparent because of the power struggle between the two men, his mom had been cruelly deprived of the most cherished relationships in her life.

Do you think she ll ever be able to forgive me? Kel asked earnestly.

Hah! You re completely blameless as far as she s concerned. I m the heartless well, you get the idea.

That s not fair. It was ultimately my decision.  
I could have handled the situation better, Kel reasoned.

Hindsight is always crystal clear, son, Brent replied. At the time, you were so blinded by your contempt for me, I doubt you could have arrived at any other solution. Besides, as much as I hate to admit, I was relieved to see you go.  
After years of yelling and screaming, I looked forward to having some quiet time with your mother.

The younger man attempted a feeble grin. I assume that was a case of be careful of what you wish for?

Absolutely. Your mother didn t speak to me for weeks. The situation deteriorated to the point where we separated for a couple of months.

You re kidding! As Kel looked across his desk,  
he realized the man sitting opposite him was a stranger. It was difficult to comprehend this was someone he once shared his dreams and aspirations with. Was it his imagination, or did his father age a little bit more each time he shared another humbling personal secret?

So how are you two doing now? Kel inquired.

Running his fingers across his chin, Brent responded,  
We re managing. We ve settled into a comfortable routine here, and she s made new friends. But hardly a day goes by that she doesn t ask about you. She wants to know if I ve seen you, do you look well, how is your career doing that sort of thing. Mainly she wants to know why I haven t marched into your office and thrown myself at your mercy.

Mentally evaluating the available floor space,  
Kel said, I don t know, Dad. Perhaps there s a spot over here where prostration might be an option.

A chuckle was heard from across the room. I ve groveled enough for one evening. We re overdue for a cup of coffee. As Brent rose from his chair, Kel motioned for him to sit down.

Wait a minute, Dad. I want to make a phone call.

Can t it wait until tomorrow? It s late.

That s the problem. I m hoping it s not too late, Kel explained.

Puzzled, Brent sat back down. Who are you calling?

I want to call Mom.

At this hour?

Jolted to reality, Kel pushed the phone back to the corner of his desk. You re right.  
I don t know what got into me. Besides, I don t even have the number on me.

Moved by the haunted expression in his son s eyes, Brent sighed. Do you have a pen?

No she s probably already in bed. I ll call her later.

His father seized control of the phone and dialed the familiar number. Thrusting the receiver into Kel s hands, Brent quietly left the room.

With each ring, Kel s heart rate accelerated.  
His mouth felt incredibly dry. Oh, this was ridiculous, he thought. He was a grown man calling his own mother. It wasn t like he was a gawky teenager asking the prom queen out for a date!

The ringing stopped and was replaced by a gentle voice. Summoning his courage, Kel tentatively said, Mom? It s Kel

------------------------------------------

Photo : Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early in a corridor.

Photo : Dr. Brackett being firm about a concern.

Photo : Roy telling Dr. Brackett about something over the ER requisitions desk.

*  
From :rosanne iho Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] It looked like a man.. Date : Sat, 14 Dec 2002 13:39:53 -0800 (PST)

It was Chet Kelly's first day back to work.

In the rec' room of Los Angeles County Fire Station 51, six firemen sat huddled in front of a TV set, watching the Dodgers and the Padres battling it out in the first game of a double-header. They cheered, as Dodger's pitcher, Don Sutton, struck out the Padres-  
one, two, three. The Dodgers came to bat. First baseman, Steve Garvey, hit a single. Outfielder, Dave Lopes, also singled. Sutton walked. With the bases loaded--and no outs --Dodger slugger, Dusty Baker, stepped up to the plate.

"There's the wind up...and the pi--!" the announcer began, only to be drowned out by the Station's alarm.

There was a group groan.

"Squad 51..." the dispatcher declared, and the Station's Engine Crew untensed.

Paramedics John Gage and Roy DeSoto groaned again and started heading for the garage.

"Child down...Wonder Wheels Park...Three and one half miles east on Dart Lane...Then, two and a quarter miles south on Ridgeway Road...Take the first left on Coolidge...It's the fourth driveway on the right...Caller advises you go in the second gate..."

"Got it, L.A...." John acknowledged, when he finished his jotting.

"10-4, Squad 51..." a rather relieved relayer came back, "Ambulance responding...Time out...17:03"

"Squad 51, KMG-365," the fireman further acknowledged. He replaced the radio, snatched up their copy of the call slip and raced around the rescue squad. "We'll start with east on Dart Lane," he proposed, piling into the passenger's seat and pulling on his helmet.

His partner nodded his approval of the plan.

##############################

Eight minutes of masterful map-reading later, DeSoto drove through the second gate at Wonder Wheels Park and cut the sirens.

"Squad 51...cancel," their radio announced.

Squad 51's occupants stared down at the dashboard in disbelief.

"We may as well check it out," Roy determined, "After all the trouble we went through to get here."

Gage nodded in agreement and grabbed the mic'. "L.A., Squad 51. We are at the scene and intend to follow through with the call."

"Roger that, 51..."

DeSoto parked the Squad at the edge of an enormous concrete lot. He and his partner exited the cab and started strolling off in the direction of a movie crew, filming skate boarding stunts. They watched--in wide-eyed wonder--as a young skate boarder went flying off the end of a three foot ramp, spun twice around and landed gracefully back onto the lot--still on her skate board! Seeing as how they were being completely ignored, Roy cleared his throat and queried, "Did somebody call the Fire Department?"

"I'm okay...Honest!" the girl insisted, as she came rolling up. "It's just a little 'road rash'..." she added, and pointed to her scraped and bleeding knees.

"You sure you're not seriously hurt?" Gage grilled her.

The little lady rolled her eyes and motioned towards the concrete lot. "Did that look like I was seriously hurt?"

"Looks can be deceiving," Roy reminded the girl. "Why don't we check you out real quick...just to be sure."

The film's director stepped between the paramedics and his star. "If the kid says she's okay--she's okay! Pam's a Pro!"

The thirteen-year-old nodded, defiantly.

"You didn't hit your head, did you?" Roy's still-worried partner wondered.

Pam gave Gage another roll of her eyes and shook her pretty little head 'no'.

John sighed. "Well...since you won't let us examine you...I...uh...guess we'll be getting back to the Station. And, you can get back to..." he glanced down at the skate board, "...that."

The girl gave herself a push and went rolling off across the lot.

"Shouldn't she be wearing a helmet?" DeSoto, the Dad, wondered aloud.

Pamela's Producer completely ignored the pesky paramedic. "All right, Kiddo...How about a backward somersault with a reverse handstand?"

The young 'Pro' picked up speed.

The two firemen exchanged alarmed looks and then watched, in amazement, as Pam flipped herself back over into a somersault.

The little lady landed in a crouched position, threw her feet up into the air and went gliding by--standing on her hands! As she turned her board around and went sailing by for a second time, she flashed the camera a beautiful, upside-down smile.

The paramedics released their held breaths and began heading for their rescue squad.

"If this is a sample of what people are gonna be doing at Wonder Wheels Park," Gage grumbled, "Something tells me we're gonna be coming here...quite often."

"After a week or two," DeSoto glumly concurred, "we'll know the way by heart."

They climbed back into their truck's cab.

John thumbed the radio mic'. "L.A., Squad 51 available...Returning to quarters."

"Roger, 51..."

###########################

DeSoto backed the Squad into Station 51's parking bay. The paramedic team piled out and sprinted into the rec' room.

"What happened after we left?" Gage asked the guys who were still huddled in front of the television, watching the game.

No one answered til a commercial came on. Then, Chet turned and said, "You had to see it to appreciate it, Gage."

"See what?" the impatient P.M. demanded.

Kelly completely ignored the question and continued, "I mean, it was really amazing! Right, Cap?"

"Hu-uh?..." Stanley stammered, not turning his gaze from the TV's screen. "Oh...yeah.  
it was amazing...absolutely!"

Gage gasped in exasperation and turned to Stoker, "What happened, Mike?"

"Dusty Baker hit a grand-slam homerun!" the Engineer obligingly answered. "I can't remember who else did what, but the Dodgers got ten runs in the second inning!"

"We missed it!" John lamented, "For a lousy cancelled call! We missed it!" The sportscaster came back on and announced the score. "Twelve to nothin'?! How one-sided can you get?!" the peeved paramedic declared and turned to leave.

"Where yah goin'?" his partner pondered.

"To work on the Log Book," Gage glumly replied, "It'll be more exciting."

His crew mates glanced at one another and grinned.

############################

A-shift filed into the dorm of Station 51 six hours and three calls later.

"Lights out in five minutes!" an extremely tired Captain Stanley warned his equally exhausted crew.

The men stripped down to their t-shirts and boxers and, after setting up their bunker pants and boots, collapsed--gratefully--into their beds. They were asleep the moment their pillows hit their heads.

They stayed right where they laid until just after eleven...when the alarm went off.

"Station 51..."

Stanley and his crew threw their covers off and began climbing out of their bunks and into the bottom half's of their turn-outs.

"Man down...unknown type rescue...213 East Morrow Drive...Ambulance responding.  
Two-One-Three East Morrow Drive...Time out...23:02"

On the way to the garage, the firemen exchanged mystified glances. Then they shrugged their suspenders into place and scrambled up into their trucks, still sliding jackets and helmets on.

"Station 51...KMG-365," the Captain acknowledged the dispatcher. Stanley shot his paramedics a rather puzzled look, before crossing the bay and climbing up into the Engine.

DeSoto took the copy of the call slip he was handed and passed it on to his partner, "I thought you said Mr. Fajou was in Florida..."

"He is!" John adamantly stated, "He's visitin' some old friend a' his from the film studio who's retired in Miami. Won't be back for another two weeks..."

Roy's look of confusion quadrupled.

"Talk about 'deja` vu'..." Mike Stoker solemnly stated, "The FIRST time we went to 213 East Morrow Drive, the Dodgers and Padres were playing a double-header, too..."

Stanley shot his astute Engineer an amused glance and clipped his copy of the call slip to the dash.

Moments later, both trucks pulled out onto the street in front of the Station, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

###########################

And, so it was that the men of L.A. County Fire Station 51 found themselves--once again --up on the ancient-looking mansion's moonlit front porch...waiting impatiently while their leader rang the eerie 'go-ong' and rapped the big, bronze door-knocker.

"The yard looks nice..." Hank commented, just for something to say.

"Thanks, Cap. Reggie's got--Mr. Fajou has this really cool riding lawn mower," John enthusiastically announced, "24 horse...with a three blade deck and a 52 inch cut!"

"And electric hedge-trimmers!" Marco added, sounding equally excited.

There followed several seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"This is just TOO weird!" Chet Kelly determined, finally putting what everyone was thinking into words.

Stanley considered saying something like: 'Well, we can't stand out here all night.' But then quickly reconsidered it. Instead, he just grabbed a hold of the knob and twisted it.

Just like the first time, they found the front door to be unlocked. "Fire Department!" the Captain called into the dimly lit entryway, "Anybody home?!" Just like the first time, he received no reply. "All right!" Hank exclaimed, throwing the door open wide and stepping aside, "You all know the drill..."

The paramedics set their equipment down in the entry hall. Roy and Marco immediately headed for the upstairs. John and Chet began making their way into the back kitchen and the basement door, while Mike followed his Captain off to explore the first floor.

#############################

John jerked the creaky portal open, "After you..." he invited with a wave of his arm. Upon seeing his companion's mustached mouth opening in protest, he quickly added,"I went first the last time..."

"All right," Kelly reluctantly conceded, "But I should probably warn you...You'd better be ready to get the hell out a' my way! Because.  
if I see even so much as a mouse...I'm gonna go screaming into the night! And I'll be plowing through anything--or anybody--that gets in my path!" Chet shot his chuckling chum an annoyed glare. Then he drew in a deep breath and begrudgingly began descending the stairs. The two men made it down about two steps, and then stopped, hearing their Captain calling for them. "This is just TOO weird!" Kelly repeated as the two of them re-retreated.

############################

"Yeah, Cap?" John inquired as he and his associated slid to a stop in front of Stanley.

"Upstairs!" their Captain prompted and passed the pair of new arrivals the paramedic equipment, "First room on the right!"

Gage grabbed the cases he was handed and took the stairs, two steps at a time.

Kelly latched onto the oxygen tank and the remaining case, and quickly followed.

They entered the first doorway on the right. The dimly lit room was a library--judging by all the books it contained. There was an elderly lady lying, motionless, on an ornate, oriental rug --which covered about a third of the room's hardwood floor. John's partner was kneeling beside the nonmoving woman, performing his initial patient survey.

"Heart?" Gage wondered, dropping his gear and himself down next to DeSoto.

Roy replied with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "She's got a goose-egg the size of my fist," he announced and began opening and emptying equipment cases, "Apparently, she fell and hit the back of her head--probably on the edge of that thing..." he added, motioning to the large oak desk resting on the floor in front of one the room's wall-to-wall bookcases.

John tossed his helmet up onto the desk and donned his stethoscope.

His partner finished his preliminary exam and began reaching for their bio-phone, "Let's get her patched in and we might be able to determine what caused the fall..."

Their Captain poked his head into the room. "Ambulance is here," he announced, "You guys got everything you need from the Squad?"

Gage gave him a nod and then frowned, as a sternal rub and a dose of smelling salts produced no results in their patient. "Cap? Can you check the medicine chests and nitestands for any prescription meds? Oh, and try to find her purse, too. There may not be any pills in it, but her wallet might contain some helpful medical information."

"You bet! Chet, you get the bedrooms!" their Commander relegated, "Marco, you get the bathrooms! Mike and I will handle the purse detail."

As the firemen exited, the ambulance attendants entered, towing a gurney.

###########################

Kelly was the first man back. He returned empty-handed. Lopez followed, a couple of minutes later, with his helmet full of pill bottles. Gage dumped two thirds of the helmet's contents into an 'urp' sack, and then placed the paper bag on their patient's stretcher.

"According to her driver's license," Stanley stated, as he and Stoker re-entered the room, "she's Mrs. Margaret Bentley. No medical info and no 'scrip's," he added, sounding almost apologetic.

"Thanks, Cap!" Roy acknowledged, as he accepted the purse that was passed to him. DeSoto snatched up several cases and followed the attendants as they towed the packaged patient from the room.

"I wonder where Mister Bentley is?" Marco queried, and stood there, staring glumly down at the two plastic pill bottles still in his helmet: Bentley's prescription meds.

"Yeah," Chet chimed in, "Someone had to call this in..."

"Chet's right, Cap," Mike Stoker concurred, "This is just TOO weird! The rescue doesn't even match the call!"

"It's the full moo-oon..." John jokingly determined, trying his level best to sound solemn and sinister. But a broad grin betrayed him. He picked up the remainder of their paramedic gear and went snickering out into the hall.

Stanley and his Engine crew exchanged amused glances. "C'mon!" Hank urged, "There's a bed back at the Station, with my name on it!"

"Maybe the Bentleys are Reggie's--Mr. Fajou's relatives..." Marco mumbled under his breath and set Mr. Bentley's scrip's down on a lamp stand. "O-or, maybe Reggie--Mr. Fajou had hired himself a couple of house sitters? " Lopez exhaled a resigned sigh and followed his fellow firefighters from the library.

###########################

John finished stowing the gear. He closed the side compartments on the Squad and stepped up to the driver's door. "Doggone it!" he exclaimed and slammed his open palm into the side of the truck.

Hank Stanley, who was half-way into his seat, heard the paramedic's angry explicative, and winced. "What no-ow?!"

"Ah, Cap..." Gage regrettably replied, " I forgot my helmet...again."

"That's the third time this month, John!" his irritated Captain realized, "Why can't you just leave it fastened to your head?!"

"It gets in the way of the phone and my stethosco--"

"Never mind!" his Captain quickly cut in, "Just go get it! We'll wait for you. Kelly, go with him!"

"Ahhh, Cap...Do I have to?" Chet whined.

"Move it, you two! Or do you WANT to find out what the penalty is for making your Captain lose his sleep?!" Hank added, seeing Kelly dragging his feet.

Chet picked up his pace. In fact, the two helmet retrievers went running back up to the mansion's front door, and quickly disappeared inside.

Stoker turned to Stanley, looking curious. "What is the penalty?"

"I don't know," his Captain confessed, "But I assure you, it wouldn't be pleasant! I can get awfully cranky when I'm sleep-deprived!"

Mike and Marco grinned.

##########################

Kelly halted in the entrance hall. "I'm waitin' right here! And, hurry it up, will yah! This place gives me the creeps!"

"I'm hurryin'! I'm hurryin'!" John assured his creeped out companion, and took the stairs two steps at a time. Gage reached the dimly lit library and glanced around. He spotted his helmet, setting on the desk, and smiled. As he crossed over and reached out to pick it up, he happened to glance down. There, on the floor behind the desk, was a strange, curved scratch mark. The mark had been carved into the polished varnished floor boards by something heavy. 'Something heavy...like a bookshelf!' the paramedic mused, 'I'll bet there's a 'secret passage' behind this thing!' He examined the object carefully...pulling and pounding and probing for some sort of 'secret' lever or button or something! 'Nothing!' he silently surmised and his shoulders slumped.

He stooped to examine the funny, curved scratch mark again. Something heavy had been sliding over those floor boards, all right! "It's got to move!" he realized aloud. He straightened stiffly back up, and that's when he noticed that several books had been removed from one of the shelves. He reached for one of the remaining books and found that it wouldn't move. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that it wasn't a 'book', at all, but a solid block of wood with a book's title painted on it! "The Mystery On Dobbin's Moor..." he read aloud and gave the block of wood a jerk.

The bookcase moved, startling him. John jumped back and stared in wide-eyed wonder as the entire shelf swung slowly out into the room, revealing a passageway in the wall behind it! "Only in the movies, huh..." he stated rather smugly, "I knew it! I knew it!" He stepped up and poked his head into the passageway. It led to a descending stairway. Gage stiffened suddenly and blinked his wide eyes in the dim light. There, at the bottom of the stairs, he could barely make out the motionless outline of a man.

The explorer immediately kicked back into the paramedic mode. "HEY, CHET! GET UP HERE! HURRY!" he turned and shouted. John snatched his helmet up before stepping into the passageway.

The opening mechanism reached the end of its guide rail and the bookcase stopped moving--but only for a moment. Because the 'stopper' on the end of the guide rail was broken, the opening mechanism left the track and a powerful spring slammed the bookcase back against the wall with a terrific force!

Gage heard the spring 'snap'. Then, something struck him in the back of the head. There was an explosion of light--then...nothing! Everything went _____. He and his retrieved helmet went tumbling down the hidden staircase.

#########################

Kelly heard Gage calling him...and then, a loud 'BA-ANG!' He hurried up the stairs and into the library. John was nowhere in sight! "Hey, Johnny...c'mon, man! Quit the clowning! Cap' just ain't gonna see the humor in this!" he added angrily. "Johnny?..." Kelly nervously repeated, following a thorough search of the room. "I know you're in here...I've been watching the door, and I would've seen you leave..." his words trailed off and a tingle went up his spine. "GAGE! GET OUT HERE! RIGHT NOW!"

His only answer was dead silence. Chet shivered, and not from the cold. "...please?" he tacked on rather pitifully.

##########################

John came to at the bottom of the hidden stairway. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black. He picked his aching, spinning head up off the floor and shook it, in an attempt to clear some of the cobwebs and put a stop to the loud, high-pitched 'ringing' in his ears. The only thing the shaking accomplished however, was to increase his pain--tenfold!

Somehow, he managed to make it up onto his hands and knees. He spotted a thin strip of light and crawled over to it. He reached up, groping in the darkness for a door knob. There wasn't one. So, he leaned against the wall and tried to stand. The 'wall' gave way and the paramedic went sprawling out of the concealed room and onto the polished marble tiles of the mansion's entryway. Gage groaned again and slowly picked himself back up off of the floor. He stood there, dazed, disoriented and very dizzy. He shut his squinting eyes and placed his hands over his ears in another attempt to block out the painfully loud, and incredibly annoying 'ringing'.

#########################

Kelly backed out of the library and started quickly down the stairs. He stopped halfway and his mouth dropped open. There, in the middle of the entrance hall, stood his no-  
longer-missing amigo. "How'd you do that?" he wondered curiously and skipped down the remaining steps to stand face to face with finally found friend. "Will yah quit the clowning, already?!" Chet pleaded, as John completely ignored him.

Gage staggered back a few feet and then caught his balance. He opened his eyes, saw Kelly standing there and quietly inquired, "...what's that noise?"

Kelly listened carefully. All his straining ears could detect was the steady ticking of the hall clock. He stared at Gage's bare head and empty hands for a few miffed moments and then threw his arms up in complete exasperation. "That does it!" he declared and began heading for the front door, "I'm out a' here! I ain't getting the Cap' mad at ME!"

Gage turned and watched in confusion as associate angrily stomped off. "What happened?" he wondered in a whisper. A sudden wave of nausea came over him and he slowly dropped to his knees.

"Man, if I were you, I'd find my helmet REAL QUICK!" Chet chastised. He grabbed a hold of the knob and glanced back, "Before Cap' comes bargin'--" he saw something glistening on the back of his now kneeling comrade's hanging head and stopped. "Hey, Johnny! You're not clowning!" he quickly realized and went rushing up to his collapsed companion. "That's REAL bloo-ood!" He grabbed Gage by the arms and slowly straightened him up, "What happened?!"

John tried blinking his blurred vision into focus. He saw Kelly's lips moving, but couldn't hear a word he was saying.  
on account of that dang incessant 'ringing'! "Can you stop that noise?" he requested. Another wave of nausea washed over him. He shut his eyes tightly and lowered his throbbing head, "...please...stop that noise," he pleaded rather pitifully.

"Man! You must a' really got your bell rung!" Kelly concluded. Gage ignored him and started struggling back up onto his feet. So, Chet draped the dazed paramedic's left arm around his neck, wrapped his own right arm around the whoozey man's waist, and began heading for the exit.

########################

Mike and Marco watched as their very vexed Commander climbed stiffly down from Big Red and began heading for the mansion's front door with long, deliberate strides.

The Captain crossed the porch, pushed the not completely closed portal open and shouted, "GAGE! KELLY! OUT HERE! NO-OW.  
THAT'S AN ORDER!"

"Cap!" an extremely relieved Chet Kelly exclaimed, "Johnny's hurt!"

Stanley rushed into the entrance hall to lend Kelly a hand with his burden. "Hurt?! What do yah mean 'hu-urt'?! How does someone get HURT retrieving a helmet?!"

"I don't know," came back Kelly's equally perplexed reply. "He hit the back of his head somehow!"

"What do yah mean 'somehow'?!" his furious Commander further demanded, "Didn't you SEE what happened?! You were supposed to be WITH him!" They carted their cargo over to the nearest bench and sat him down. Stanley stooped in front of the injured fireman and steadied him. "What happened, John?" No reply.

"It's no use, Cap, " Kelly advised, "His ears must still be ringing, or something. I don't think he can hear us."

Hank slipped his hand-held from his coat pocket and thumbed it, "HT 51 to Engine 51..."

"Engine 51...Go ahead, Cap..."

"Mike, Marco, bring me a backboard, a c-collar, the spare O2 and the trauma box!" the Captain requested.

"Right away, Cap!"

Hank exhaled a weary sigh and handed his HT to Kelly. "Call it in!" he ordered and immediately began making a mental list of everything he had ever learned about treating head injuries. ::Keep movement to a minimum.  
apply cervical collar...maintain an airway.  
administer oxygen to minimize brain swelling...monitor circulation...check for cerebrospinal fluid...dress the wound without disturbing the underlying tissue.  
examine the patient for any other injuries.::

Station 51's Captain exhaled another exasperated sigh. Then he pulled the paramedic's penlite from his assessment pouch and began his initial patient survey.

##########################

Roy was standing in the corridor in front of the Nurse's Station at Rampart General's Emergency Receiving, waiting for his partner to pick him up.

The door to the Doctor's Lounge flew open and the ambulance attendants he'd just rode in with came hurrying out into the hall.

The driver spotted DeSoto and waved him over. "You ain't gonna believe this," he declared as the paramedic came stepping up, "but we just got called back to that creepy house!"

"You can't be serious!" Roy exclaimed.

The driver nodded, "You wanna ride back with us?"

"I'm waiting for my partner," Roy replied, and pointed to his pile of equipment cases.

"You'll have a lot shorter wait if you come with us, " the other attendant piped up. "Our patient IS your partner!"

DeSoto gulped in disbelief, but then ran over, gathered up his gear and went racing towards the exit. The paramedic beat the attendants to their ambulance.

##########################

"Where did you find him?" a flustered Hank Stanley asked, upon finishing administering his first-aid.

"He was standing right there," Chet replied and pointed to middle of the entryway.

"He must've slipped and fallen down the stairs..." the Captain concluded.

"I don't think so, Cap. The last time I saw him, he went into that library...where we found that lady with the big bump on the back of her head...the next time I saw him, he was standing right there...with a big, bloody bump on the back of his head. I heard this real loud 'ba-ang!' "

Stanley stared up at the ceiling, "Why?! Why can't two grown men rescue one helmet--without one of them nearly being killed!" No reply followed. He frowned down at the barely conscious fireman on the backboard, "What am I gonna do with you, pal?! If I ever find out that you got hurt goofing off, I-I'll...." he let his threat just hang there in the air.

The sound of an approaching siren grew louder and louder and finally stopped.

Roy hurried into the entrance hall. Seeing the patient was packaged and ready to transport, the vertical paramedic told the two white-coated men who had accompanied him, "Let's go! I'll call it in on the way!"

The attendants nodded. They transferred the horizontal paramedic's backboard from the hall bench to their stretcher, strapped it securely in place and began towing the patient out to their waiting ambulance.

Roy watched them wheel his partner away and then turned to his Captain, "What happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" Stanley smartly replied and passed his questioner his medical notes. "And that's what I intend to find out! Chet take the Squad! Mike, Marco, I want this house turned inside out!"

"Aye, aye, Cap!" Kelly acknowledged. He snatched up the trauma box and gladly followed Roy out of the building. "He took a pretty hard blow to the back of the head. He's gonna need some stitches," the Irishman informed the still completely-in-the-dark paramedic. "Says he can't remember what happened. Claims he can't hear anything because there's a loud ringing in his ears..."

DeSoto gave his moustached informant a grateful nod and climbed up into the back of the ambulance with the bio-  
phone and their drug box.

Kelly closed the doors, rapped an 'all clear' and then watched the vehicle pull away. He gave the creepy-crawly dwelling a parting glance, before heading for the Squad...with a shudder. He was really relieved to be leaving that 'way weird' 'banging' abode behind him--for good. ::Hopefully... ::

###########################

"What are we looking for?" Mike wondered as they began a thorough search of the library.

"His helmet," their confused Captain replied as the object of their search was not immediately clearly visible, "It has to be in here somewhere! He didn't have it with him when Chet found him..."

Stoker stopped in mid-search and stood there, resting his hands upon his hips, "Cap, everything about this rescue has been really strange."

"Yeah, Cap," Lopez agreed, "Maybe we should call the police?"

"What? You two think somebody hit him over the back of the head and stole his helmet?" Stanley jokingly inquired. He saw the looks on their faces and realized that was exactly what they thought. "That's ridiculous!"

"First, the rescue doesn't match the call..." Marco muttered, "Then, Johnny gets 'mysteriously' hurt..."

"I think there's somebody hiding in this house!" Stoker stubbornly insisted.

Lopez nodded his support of the Engineer's notion.

"C'mon!" their Captain urged, "There's got to be an explanation to all this 'strange' business. When we find the helmet, I'm sure we'll find the explanation-  
a reasonable explanation," their still skeptical Commander added, suppressing a smile all the while.

###########################

An hour later, the three firemen finished their thorough, and exhausting, search of the house and regrouped in the entrance hall.  
empty-handed!

Stoker sank wearily down onto the bottom step and wondered, "Well, Cap, are you convinced now?"

Stanley sighed and tried rubbing some of the stiffness from the muscles in the back of his neck. "I'm convinced we're wasting our time here. C'mon! Let's get back to the Station. I wanna call the hospital."

Lopez looked tremendously disappointed, "You're not going to call the police?"

"And tell them what?" Hank wondered, "Hello, I'd like to report a missing helmet? I don't think that would go over too big."

"Maybe not, " Mike admitted, "But what about attempted murder?"

Stanley stared at his Engineer in total disbelief. "And I thought Gage had an overactive imagination! C'mon! Let's go get some sleep! It'll give your imagination a chance to rest, after running wild like that."

But Stoker was undeterred. "Aren't you curious?"

Their Captain exhaled a sigh of complete exhaustion. "Mike, right now I'm more tired than curious. We can look for answers again in the morning...later this morning," he wearily tacked on, on his way to the exit.

##########################

Fifteen minutes later, Station 51's Commander-In-Chief found himself on the phone in the rec' room. "Uh-huh...I see.  
Uh-huh," he paused to pass DeSoto's report on to his skeleton engine crew, "No fractures. No hemorrhaging. Just a mild concussion, a dozen stitches and a bunch of bruises..."

Stoker and Lopez exhaled sighs of relief.

"Already did! A replacement should be arriving any minute now. Right! Thanks, Roy!" the Captain concluded his conversation and returned the phone's handset to its cradle. "Thank God!" he exclaimed and began heading for his bunk. "Lights out in two minutes!" he warned.

Mike flicked off the lights and then he and Marco followed their leader over to the dorm.

###########################

Meanwhile, over in Rampart General's ICU...

"Are your ears still ringing?" Dr. Kelly Brackett asked, upon completion of his very thorough examination of the pouting patient in Room 602.

The frowning fireman shook his heavily bandaged head 'no'.

"Good! You can hear me! How do you feel?" There followed a long silence. Kel' turned to the nurse, standing at his side and said, "Humph! His ears are working...but now he can't talk!"

"I was always told if I couldn't say anything nice, I shouldn't say anything at all."

Brackett cleared his throat and cracked a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see that little bump on the head hasn't caused you to lose your sense of humor!"

"If I only got a 'little bump on the head', then why does my whole body hurt?" Gage complained, sounding every bit as grumpy as he looked.

"Your whole body hurts because it's black and blue."

"Did somebody beat me up?"

"By the location of these bruises, I'd venture to say you fell down some stairs..." Brackett paused, to study his patient's reaction to his little disclosure.

At the mentioning of the word 'stairs', a picture of a dark staircase had flashed through Gage's groggy memory banks. Then another fleeting mental image appeared. That of a motionless figure sprawled out on the floor at the foot of those dark steps.

"Although Chet swears that's not possible..." the doctor paused again, "What is it Johnny? You remember something?"

"I'm not sure. When you said stairs, I suddenly saw--" the paramedic stopped and stiffened. "Doc! Are any of the guys still here?!"

"Roy and Chet are right outside. Why?"

"I gotta talk to 'em! Hurry! It's important! Life and death important!"

"All right. You get one minute," Brackett allowed, and began heading for the door, "But you have to promise to behave yourself!" he called back over his shoulder.

John nodded.

His doctor disappeared out into the hall.

"How is he?" Chet Kelly anxiously inquired.

Brackett folded his arms and frowned. "Right now, he's all worked up! Claims he has something important to tell the two of you. Gentlemen, it's essential that he remain as calm and as quiet as possible..."

ICU's visitors nodded their understanding.

So, Kel' pushed the portal to 602 back open and waved them inside, "One minute!" he allotted and let the door swing shut.

Gage spotted his guests and practically shouted, "You guys have got to get back to that house! There's somebody hurt!"

"Calm down, Johnny!" his partner pleaded. "Who's hurt?"

"I don't know. It was kinda' dark. It looked like a man."

DeSoto and Kelly exchanged knowing glances. They decided to humor him. "Okay, Johnny. We'll go back to the house and rescue the man. You just lie still and don't worry...he'll be just fine..."

Gage gazed into his friends' faces. He could tell they didn't really believe him. "You don't believe me!" he exclaimed and tried to sit up. "You gotta believe me! He's layin' at the bottom of a SECRET stairs!"

The ICU nurse shoved his antsy, all-riled-up partner back down on his bed.

"We'd better leave!" DeSoto quickly determined and he and his fellow visitor began beating a hasty retreat.

"No! Don't go! I hafta tell yah how to get to the SECRET passage! It's behind the bookcase! Mystery On Dobbin's Moor! Be careful! The bookcase is DEADLY!" John stopped shouting as the door swung shut. He turned to his tough nurse, "Let me go! I've got to make a phone call!"

Brackett glanced up from the medical chart he'd been studying and gave Gage's guests an annoyed glare. "That visit went over well!" he sarcastically commented. "What was all the shouting about?"

"That bump on the head must've scrambled his brains," Roy replied, "He saw a Late Late show about a month ago, and now he's hallucinating houses with hidden rooms!"

The doctor cocked one eyebrow, "What did he tell you?"

"Why?"

"I don't think he was hallucinating. What exactly did he say?"

Gage's guests glanced at each other again.

Kelly went first. "Well, he said there was somebody hurt back at that house."

"Yeah," DeSoto chimed in, "He said it looked like a 'man'."

"Then he said something about a secret stairway and a secret passage," Kelly concluded.

"I think you should check it out!" John's doctor advised, speaking in dead earnest. "I examined Johnny just before you went in there. He was completely mentally alert. And," he paused,"he's covered with bruises.  
like the bruises one would get from falling down a flight of stairs. Now, Chet claims he didn't fall down the stairs he was watching...so...maybe he fell down a hidden stairway?"

Roy remained skeptical.

But Kelly was beginning to come around. "It would explain a lot of things," he was forced to admit.

"What things?" DeSoto wondered.

"Well, the call for instance. Remember? It came in MAN down...unknown type rescue. And, Johnny had to get to the first floor somehow...and somebody had to phone the call in...It would also explain why they couldn't find his helmet!"

"That call has been bugging me all night!" Roy remarked and started striding off in the direction of a phone.

Brackett and Kelly followed along.

Roy picked up the receiver and dialed a number from memory.

"Los Angeles County Fire Department Central Dispatch," one of the dispatchers answered, "May I help you?"

"Yes. This is Squad 51. I need to speak to the person who answered an emergency call at around eleven. The call was to 213 East Morrow Drive."

"Standby, 51," the dispatcher acknowledged and placed the call on hold.

Two minutes later, a woman came back on the line. "Hello?"

"Hi. This is Squad 51. Did you receive the call from 213 East Morrow Drive last night?"

"Yes. Why? Did it turn out to be a hoax?"

DeSoto stiffened, "Why'd you ask that?"

"Some hysterical woman called, screaming something about her husband finding a secret passage in her brother's house. Can you imagine? A secret passage?"

Roy slammed the phone down. "Tell Johnny I'm sorry I ever doubted him!" he requested of Brackett, before tearing off down the hospital corridor with Chet hot on his heels. They skidded to a stop in front of the elevators and DeSoto hit the DOWN button. "L.A., Squad 51," he spoke into his HT.

"Go ahead, 51..."

"L.A., we have a silent alarm at 213 East Morrow Drive. Request an ambulance and Engine 51's assistance."

"10-4, Squad 51...213 East Morrow Drive.  
Two-One-Three East Morrow Drive.  
Ambulance and Engine 51 responding.  
Time Out...2:13"

Kelly caught the Time Out time and turned to DeSoto, wearing the oddest expression on his moustached face. "2:13? How weird is tha-at?!"

The elevator arrived and swallowed them up, before Brackett could catch the paramedic's reply.

The physician managed an amused snort and decided to go deliver DeSoto's message. He turned around and ran smack dab into his father.

"Don't you ever sleep?" the senior Dr. Brackett queried lightly.

"Dad! What on earth are you doing here at this hour?"

"Attempted suicide. 604. What about you?"

"Concussion. 602. Since when do you get called in for a psyche consult?"

"Since I volunteered my services in the--in your E.R.. Since when do you get called in for a concussion at, " Brent paused to glance at his Rolex, " 2 a.m.?"

"Since I left standing orders to be notified whenever any of my family members or close, personal friends come through the doors."

"Then...you'd be called in...for me?" his father tentatively inquired.

"Twice!" Kel assured him, with a wry smile, "You made BOTH lists!" The younger Dr. Brackett's smile broadened into a grin, and he disappeared behind the door to ICU Room 602.

Brent Brackett chuckled and then vanished next door, into 604.

----------------------------------------

Photos : No attachments.

*  
From: 'Katherine Bird'  
Subject : [emergencytheaterlive] For Whom the Tome Tolls.  
Date : Sunday, December 15th, 2002. 23:22:09 GMT

Roy and Chet beat the Engine to 213 Morrow Drive and got out. They shed helmets onto the squad's roof, knowing that they wouldn't be needing them inside.

Chet was bouncing with more than just professional urgency. Nervousness was making him babble.  
"I don't know what you think I can do once we find him in there Roy. I'm not a paramedic." Chet whined, taking drug, IV,  
and the splint box from the side compartment as they hastened to gather all they would need.

Roy afforded him a wry look. "You got two arms and know how to use a resuscitator. That's all you need to know if CPR's needed. I can handle the rest until the Engine gets here. It's been a half hour,  
no doubt Johnny's replacement has already reported in. He'll be coming with the Ward and the gang, sitting in your spot."

"True enough. I wonder who was sent as Johnny's replacement.."

DeSoto snatched up the defibrillator, short 02 case, the biophone and two hefty hand held flashlights. He freed one hand long enough to thumb his HT. "L.A., Squad 51. On scene."

"10-4, 51."

"L.A., what's Engine 51's ETA?"

Before L.A. could answer, Cap's sleepy voice piped in over the open frequency, punctuated by background sirens. Roy could hear gears shifting at a rapid rate as the LaFrance wove through the late night traffic. "Squad 51, our ETA is four minutes!"Cap replied immediately.

"10-4, Engine 51." Roy said. ::Man, Mike must be breaking all speed records to get here.::

Chet and Roy hurried to the front porch landing with all of their equipment. The full moon had settled over the trees, making the neatly fire station gang weeded stone path, invisible, but Roy and Chet already knew the front garden sidewalk's curves by heart.

Kelly asked a question. "Just what did the dispatcher tell you about this potentially injured guy?" he panted, as Roy and he pushed opened the front door with their hips and rushed into the main entrance hall.

Chet could still see the wrappers they had left behind from Johnny's nasal cannula tubing Cap had used on him and from Marco's left over bandaging on the oriental rug by the stone bench.

Roy immediately got his bearings and started running up the main staircase to the second floor of the vast, dark Victorian mansion. They both returned to the library at the head of the stairs. "Chet, it went like this. Dispatch said Margaret, the lady we found, is Fajou's sister and that it was she who called in last night's run on her husband, Norman.  
Dispatch thought her nuts when she started yelling about him being lost in a secret passage.."

"So that explains the mismatched gender on the call; Man down, when we found a woman. "

"Yeah.." Roy said., hurrying even faster. Chet said. "She must've panicked,  
trying to find him. Don't blame her. These are number one grade A creepy surroundings, man."  
If she freaked, she could've fallen and hit her head easily."

"That's what I'm guessing." Roy said.

Fireman and paramedic plunked down all of their gear on the carpetting in the dark library and both immediately went to the rows and rows of ornate bookshelves, seeking out one title that Gage had embedded into their minds so urgently....

Unconsciously, they turned protectively back to back to each other, and turned in place eyeing the wall to wall book shelving all around them with their flashlights.

Chet whistled, "Man, where do we start?"

"Anywhere.."  
Roy licked dry lips, but smiled when he heard the sounds of Engine 51 approaching. He lifted his HT. "Squad 51 to Engine 51. We're in the library."

"10-4. There in one.." Stoker acknowledged.

Roy turned back to a twitchy Kelly. "Johnny said the title of the book that activated the passageway's door read,..The Mystery On Dobbin's Moor.."

Chet and Roy fell mute when thousands of books met their sight. And most of them were almost too dusty to read.

"And I promised myself I'd never come back here.." Kelly said, "That's what I get for having an overactive curiosity about this house. We'll never find it in time, Roy.. Geez, the guy's been lying alone for hours. He might even be dead already."

"Yeah, well. Third time on a run to the same location's always a charm. I prefer to think positively." Roy grunted.  
"Now, let's start shedding some light here. Literally."

DeSoto jogged back to the door they entered and found a long velvet pull cord set into the ceiling. He pulled it and electric lights in Victorian glass lamps brightly illuminated the room. "Let's assume Johnny didn't climb that book ladder to find it, and that he only looked at something at eye level. He was looking for his helmet that he had set down. So it makes sense he wouldn't have been looking anywhere over our heads." he sighed. Then he paused, thinking.  
"Chet, where exactly did we find Margaret on the floor,  
I don't remember. I was too focused on making sure she was still breathing to recall."

Chet shrugged and paced to the place. "Right about here.." he gestured. "Next to the desk, like this.."  
and he laid down on the floor to show Roy how she had been positioned.

Roy place his feet next to where Chet's shoes lay and turned, looking at the desk. He found hand prints on the mirror and a blood stain where Margaret's head had impacted its edging. "Her lump was on the left occipitally, so she had to be facing this way.." Roy turned to his right, "...when she fell against the desk."

Chet got to his feet. "Look!" he shouted, aiming his flashlight's beam. "A larger hand print!" he said pointing it out on a dusty tome immediately next to the mirror. "That's got to be Johnny's. It still looks fresh."

Roy "It is..There's the title we've been looking for."  
Roy's hand was just about to pull it when 51's engine crew and Paramedic Craig Brice rushed into the room loaded with wall cracking equipment.

Cap rushed to their sides. "Any luck yet?"

"Right here, Cap." Roy said. "We found the triggering mechanism. Johnny said it was disguised as this fake book here."

"All right, stand back." Captain Stanley ordered.  
"If that bookshelf's opening mechanism malfunctioned enough to shove Johnny down a flight of stairs, it'll still be malfunctioning. Be careful. Things like this usually rotate on a counter weight balance."

Chet smirked, "Hey Cap, all the sudden you're a haunted house secret passageway expert on top of being a fire department captain?"

Stanley shot a look at Kelly. "Not even pretending,  
Kelly. Just guessing here. I'm remembering the weird hidden revolving stone door we found in that winery basement fire last month. Remember that fire? Well I had a chance to talk with the restaurant designer we rescued about it all while I bandaged up burns he got on his hands trying to save that hundred year old Cabernet Sauvignon wine bottle."

"Oh yeah. What a tragedy! A two thousand dollar bottle of bino. Poof. Up in smoke." Marco said.

Mike said. "I remember him, a real character. Didn't know whether I was talking to Frank Lloyd Wright or Stephen King."

Craig Brice interrupted them. "Ah, gentleman.  
We can talk about all this fascinating gothic architecture and about the old wine later, hmm? We're here on a rescue call. I suggest we stick to the matters at hand. Our victim is expecting us to save him with all due haste."

Chet sniped back, "Yeah? Well Cap flapping his gums, Brice, is to make sure we don't end up dead before we can even get to the guy. Patience. Strange thing with you saying that, Brice,  
you usually know paramedic protocol better than any of us. Remember rule number one? 'First, secure the scene?' "

Craig didn't take offense. "Indeed. Proceed all. I'll get the gear set up." He laid out an EKG monitor onto the rug, quickly followed by the defibrillator case.

Cap said, "Ok, Marco, get that crow bar set.  
Mike get ready to jam your roof axe into the hinge axel that'll expose itself once the bookshelf swings open.  
That should hold things long enough for us to get Bentley out of there."

Roy pulled the pseudobook lever.

There was a groan of stone and a loud bang which Chet recognized. "This is the right way.. I remember that sound!"

He barely waited for Marco and Stoker to wedge axe and crow bar into the brick wall gears before plunging into the darkness of the stair well.

Sure enough, his flashlight beam caught a dim figure at the bottom of the landing.

The gang all shoved into the narrow passageway.

Roy was quickly down the rock stairway, with all the others close on his heels. "Hey sir..! Can you hear me?"

Kelly butted in front of him and reached for the figure's neck.

A large spider jumped out from around the man's hairline in a defensive leap, guarding its territory.

"Ahhh!!"  
Chet leaped backwards with a shout, crashing into Roy, Stoker and Cap behind him, and all four fell onto their butts on the stone steps.

"Kelly do you mind?" Cap said.

"Sorry Cap. I.. guess I'm more than a little jumpy."

Roy was already at their victim's side, aiming a flashlight towards his face. "Hey Cap, look at this. It's a wax work figure."

All four guys crowded around Roy and looked.

"A fake body." Cap sighed. "I should have known.  
This house IS a working creepshow."

Chet had already overcome his fright. "Man, Johnny's gonna be bummed he took a fall over a dummy."  
and the guys laughed.

Then a low moan attracted their attention. Every one of them shot their flashlight beams into the cobwebby room beyond the stair's landing.

Shushes abounded as everyone strained to hear more. Cap held up a glove for silence and he shouted. "Norman Bentley! Shout if you can hear us!"

They were met with an eerie quiet.

"Ok, gang. Spread out. Search pattern. And stay within eyesight at all times. This place is a deathtrap to the uninitiated."

"Seems like even the caretakers were under informed."  
Brice shouted from where he was listening to the gang from where he was waiting in the library with an open comm to Rampart.

"Unlucky them." Lopez groaned.

At the back of the room, another figure startled them,  
a huge looming, silver form standing in their light beams.

"Well, I'll be d*mned." Kelly whispered. "There IS an iron maiden in the basement."

Cap and Roy shot him a dirty look.

Another trickling moan met their ears, weaker than the last, followed by an echo which sounded like hollow metal pinging.

They all paused in their tracks trying to pin down a place that would cause a moan to sound like that. "Maybe Norman found the Maiden, too." Lopez said fearfully. "It's the only hollow thing down here."  
Come on!" Kelly agreed.

All the firemen hastened to open the heavy wrought iron case. While they shouted for Norman to answer them, the faint, low moaning stopped.

It was almost a full two minutes more before the firemen figured out the tricky old device's release latches and freed their victim.

Out tumbled an older man bonelessly, comatose and dusky blue. "Mr. Bentley?" Roy said, catching him.

They set him on the stone floor and DeSoto quickly grabbed his head and listened carefully over his nose and mouth after tipping his chin back.

"Move it guys. He's quit breathing.." Roy said and he firmly began mouth to mouth.

Mike Stoker began opening the man's shirt hastily for CPR.

Chet rushed to the foot of the stairs and shouted.  
"Hey Brice! Toss down the resuscitator. On the double!"

Craig did so, and Kelly caught the case as deftly as a basketball. He rushed back and together, Mike and Chet got the unit turned on. They both swiftly fitted the tubing and the moulded face piece into place.

Roy tilted back Norman's head further on his next breath, until a better airway was secured.  
Then he set the positive pressure mask Kelly handed him over the suffocated man's face, and sent a set of rapid ventilations of pure O2 deep into Norman's chest with the thumb trigger.

Roy's free fingers found a beat just under the man's jawline. He waved Mike off from his hands-on-waiting for-word-to-go CPR position. "Stoker, it's ok. He's still got a pulse.." he told him. "It's weak, but there."

All the gang sighed and relaxed just a bit.  
After only a minute more supported O2, the very lucky Norman roused and began coughing.

He weakily shoved the ventilation mask away with a confused mumble.

Cap attempted to get the groggy man's attention.  
"Mr. Bentley? It's ok. We're with the L.A. County Fire Department, we got a call from your wife that you were lost down here. How are you feeling?"

Norman's eyes blearily made out Roy and all the gang's faces. "Oh my, never.. shoulda gone exploring..Ohhh.  
That d*mned thing trapped me..." he said with a grimace towards the Iron Maiden that had entombed him for a day.

"How did you ever get in there?" Cap wanted to know.

Kelly helped the man sit against the Maiden to ease his breathing a little more, at Roy's unspoken nod to do so.

"Oh, I've got a headache that won't quit.."  
Norman groaned and gratefully took the mask Roy still held against his nose and mouth. He inhaled in a few more shots of oxygen, then blinked his eyes as clarity came slowly back. It arrived along with a healthy sense of self consciousness the more Norman thought about where he was and what had happened to him. Finally, he sighed,  
answering the tall fire department captain.  
"I....wanted to know what it was like being inside one of them. Stupid really. Didn't know there was no handle on the inside."

Chet sighed. "No kidding.. Didn't think a torturing device would have one."

Marco smacked Chet on the arm to keep him quiet.

Cap sighed, rubbing his sleep mussed hair and said,  
"Well live and learn from this, Norman. Looks like no lasting harm done. But sir, I'm afraid we've got some off news about your wife. She .. well,...panicked a bit when she didn't hear you answer her calling your name and slipped a bit, upstairs."

"Is Maggie ok?" Norman gasped. "Is she here? Oh my goodness.."

"She's fine, sir. Relax. She's just getting an ice pack for her head at Rampart Emergency, most likely,  
and a few precautionary X-rays. We'll be bringing you to where she is in a few minutes." Cap said.

"Oh, bother.. Glad she's all right. Thank you boys,  
for looking out for her," he sighed, "and me for that matter.." and took another pull off the mask, saying more. "Margaret doesn't have the same sense of adventure I do about her brother's house. Me, I'm like a kid turned loose in a candy store.." and he started laughing to the point of coughing.

"Easy.." Roy said, "Just keep using this oxygen here. I'm afraid you're still as gray as she is...." he quipped, patting the Iron Maiden next to them. That only brought more laughter from Norman and he rapidly improved colorwise soon there after.

Chet and Cap had already ruled out the need for a stokes. Roy agreed with them and he finished putting away the positive pressure valve, trading it for a cannula. "Feel well enough to stand, Norman? " Roy asked him. "We've got another paramedic with all of our equipment up the stairs here. If you'd let us, we'd like to check ya out to make sure you didn't come to any permanent harm."  
Roy asked him.

"You're so nice, all of you men. And for coming all the way over here just to get me out of my bind." he said. "Yes. I do believe I can. " and he let himself be raised and supported between Stoker and Marco until he regained shaky feet. "Say fellas, when you were searching for me, did you spot Reggie's wetbar? I'm awful thirsty from being cramped in there all night. A brandy would really hit the spot right about now..."

"Amen to that sir." Chet nodded animatedly.

Cap glared at Kelly. "Just go get the gear, Kelly.  
We're going upstairs."

Roy quickly diverted Mr. Bentley from the jibbing Captain Stanley to Chet Kelly exchange.  
"Let's just start with a glass of water from the kitchen, all right? " Roy told him with a grin. "And maybe we'll be asked to get an IV or two going a bit later.." he said thoughtfully.

"An IV? What's that? Anything like a V-O?"  
Mr. Bentley asked with an innocent curiosity.  
"I know about those, Margaret says Reginald likes to drink them while he bakes things in the kitchen."

Roy grinned and then began explaining in detail about what would go on with Norman and his prehospital care and about what the doctor on the other end of the biophone would probably order, as they all slowly made their way up the slate gray stones, step by step.

On the way, and last in line, Chet snatched up Gage's helmet after making very sure no new spiders were calling it home.

He was still unnerved by the bug he had seen and Norman's close call, but his sense of humor was still completely intact. So was his keen entrepeneurial instinct that always seemed to pop up after a crisis.  
"Say, Mr. Bentley. Did you know you could probably make a fortune opening up this place to school kids around Halloween time? You three might make even more money then, in one month,  
than you do right now giving the studios kids THEIR tours, all year. Reggie would still be able to hand out his gingerbread cookies anytime he feels like it. And I'm sure the guys here with me would love to help out this fall in costumes or something, too."

Marco and Mike began to shake their heads vehemently out of Norman's eyeshot but stopped immediately when the old man noticed them doing something beyond helping him climb steps.

Chet got braver as the gem of his idea, blossomed in the wake of his spider fright. "Yeah, now that I think about it, my Cap would make a GREAT Frankenstein."

"Really?" Norman chirped up, fiddling with the cannula that had been set around his face as he let his rescuers sit him into a leather library recliner by a roaring fireplace that had somehow, mysteriously, lit itself.

Chet said sotto voce. "Oh yeah, sir. I know because he's a regular holy terror whenever he goes without sleep or when any station wide inspection date rolls around."

Kelly never saw the boot Cap connected with his rear, sending him out the library door in an unsubtle hint to tell the ambulance attendants where to rendevous with them all.

-  
A week later, the gang sat around the kitchen table eating lunch, without much gusto.

Even Mike looked quieter than usual.

Marco finally piped up, breaking the soft sounds that all their forks were making as they each half heartedly played with their food. "Man, I'm really going to miss the little guy."

"Yeah. And we just got the paint to dry on old Henry's dog house too." Mike Stoker agreed.

Stoker and Lopez both let out matching sighs.

Captain Stanley narrowed his eyes at his men from around his chilidog as he bit into it. He chewed loudly and without apology.  
"Come off it you two. You saw the way Reggie,  
Maggie and Norman's eyes lit up when they saw Chester Bartholomew run up to them when they came here to give us all gingerbread cookies to thank us for all we've done. It was like twenty years of loneliness just rolled right off their shoulders. What else could I have done?"

Chet groused. "You couldn't've found them another puppy?"

"As if I could've right at that moment, Kelly. Hush, and eat your food before it gets cold."

Another two minutes of no one chewing, stretched intolerably.

Cap cleared his throat and addressed his depressed crew, "Now, Come on gang. We just all have to get used to having a station without a mascot again. Won't be hard. Not at all. I mean we..we..we managed to survive after Henry left. Right?"

Everyone grudgingly agreed, until a voice rang out.

"Barely. We didn't sleep for a week.  
Remember?" Chet insisted morosely. "I don't know about you, Cap. But I missed him terribly. All but broke my heart.  
Sort of like ..." and he lowered his voice.." the way.  
I feel...." and he took a bite of biscuit to hide what he was feeling."....right ...now..about Chester."

Captain Stanley shifted in his chair uncomfortably.  
"Yeah, well, Kelly. uh... I know it's tough. It's rough on all of us.. But, consider our giving Chester away a good deed and let's leave it at that."

Roy regarded Chet with a calm encouraging grin.  
"He's right Chet. Just think how happy Chester will be when he can play with all the school kids everyday when they come to visit Mr. Fajou and the Bentleys to get their gingerbread cookies."

His grin fell away when Chet's paper didn't stop separating Kelly from the rest of those around the kitchen table.

Gage loudly coughed, getting everyone's attention.  
He wore a very serious face as he said.  
"I still think you made a horrible mistake Cap. I really think that you must've .." and his face lit up with laughter."...given away the wrong Chester B, You should've given them Kelly here and saved us a whole lotta future grief." Johnny joked.

"Very funny Gage." Chet said, finally taking some bait. "I'll remember that the next time you get lost and your buns are roasting in a hot fire and I'm the one sent to look for ya."

The gang chuckled, thinking they were finally lifting away the dark cloud hanging over Kelly's head.

Even Cap finally got up out of his chair and strode over to Henry's old dog house and he patted its newly restored paint job. "Listen gang...uh, despite what I've decided here, it doesn't mean we can't keep our eye out, you know, from looking for the next stray to come along. Am I right? Heck. We see tons of em every fire. "

Gage was still frowning because it had finally sunk in that his attempt at humor had actually failed to get Chet out of his pity pit. "Yeah, Cap. That's... that's a really good idea. We'll uh, just,  
we'll just go about our business and wait for another dog or something to come to us."

"Exactly Gage.. " Cap agreed. "My guess is the next dog to land at Station 51 will do it OUT of a baby basket and without any mysterious note attached around his neck."

"Here. here." Johnny piped up in a toast, raising his mug of coffee. "To Chester Bartholomew.  
Once a puppy lost, now a pup found, and living it up in the coolest house a dog could ever wish for,  
the Morrow Drive Movie Mansion."

The gang all joined in the toast whole heartedly, hooting a few whistles and cheers until Chet finally raised his mug, too.

Everyone pretended not to see the water glistening in Chet Kelly's eyes as he looked for the millionth time at a photo of Chester Bartholomew that he had carried in his uniform pocket ever since the first day the tiny beagle pup had arrived on the kitchen doorstep, as they drank in the little dog's honor.

As if by magic, a box of tissue suddenly appeared out of nowhere, shoving underneath the funnies Chet was only pretending to read.

------------------------------------------------

Dixie McCall watched the three well dressed diners surrounding her at a Manny's Fine Dining white topped table, and smiled.

Her wildest long time wish, had finally come true at last.

Kel Brackett sat with his mother and his father,  
all together, at one table.

Dixie grinned even bigger.  
::It's been three hours. And the sparks still aren't flying. You know, sometimes I amaze even myself. Maybe I should study to become a doctor AND a psychologist, just to make it official someday:: she considered.

Dixie sipped her Amaretto sour and studied her friends' faces as they shared their life stories of the past ten years with other, in full, heartfelt, gritty detail. But Dixie felt she didn't even need to listen. It was enough just to be there.  
::Nah..:: she thought about her future career plans once more. ::Why should I even bother? I get to enjoy the rewards of doing that kind of work right now. No muss, ...no fuss. And what I'm witnessing right now is a fine, fine example of the power of human reconciliation at its very best.::

Dixie was absolutely sure that Joe Early next to her was revelling too, in the fact that not once through the entire nine course dinner, had Kel Brackett's anxiety tied face twitch, revealed itself.

::Yeah. Somedays I really love my job.:: Dixie mused once again. :: I couldn't be any happier,  
I think ever, ...than I am.....right ........now..::

Wordlessly, she clinked her drink with Joe's as they both continued to be inadvertantly ignored by their close companions.  
Pleased as punch, Dixie McCall and Joe Early both tuned back into the animated dinner conversation going on around them and nurse and doctor both, privately went on celebrating and watching with both eyes as the old Brackett family circle remade itself into something .... finally and truly,  
everlasting.

FIN

-----------------------------

Photo : Cap and John wearing helmets looking worried.

Photo : Chet in turnout, with an axe.

Photo : A creepy house.

Photo: Roy with an unconscious man in a dirty setting.

Photo : Dixie out of uniform in street clothes.

Photo : A tiny beagle pup, running in play.

Photo : Station 51, in daylight under blue skies.

*

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